


Bad Blood

by heygaymayday



Category: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (Video Games), The Last of Us Part II - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ellie Returns to Jackson (The Last of Us), F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, POV Ellie (The Last of Us), Post-Canon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heygaymayday/pseuds/heygaymayday
Summary: She’s letting herself think about it, carefully, like the memories are a stray dog that might bite her outstretched hand at any moment. She’s thinking about the pattern of the freckles across her nose and the shape of her dumb, easy grin, and the way her hair would flash red in the sunlight from the window, when it was unkempt and wild from being tangled in Dina’s hands and--It’s too fucking much. It’s too far. It’s too good, and those stray dog memories do what stray dogs do best--it clamps down on her, sinks teeth down deep, sends her into breathless agony.So she's folding in on herself, as small as she can get, as if that might help--it won't--and she's giving in to the grief again.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Maria/Tommy (The Last of Us)
Comments: 252
Kudos: 545





	1. Wolves at Your Door

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up immediately after Ellie's departure, and chronicles her return.
> 
> This may also make minor references to events/characters from a previous fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193242/chapters/61057966
> 
> Comments are my only source of joy, and I need a lot of joy, because writing about anything related to TLOU 2 is heavy as fuck.
> 
> I love talking about all this shit so feel free to follow me on twitter and hit me with your thoughts: @heygaymayday
> 
> Music is a huge part of my process and the springboard for the beginning of this story was Bad Blood, by Bear's Den.
> 
> It's all in the blood.

_**DINA**_.

There's a full breeze, the kind that comes before the rain, smells like clean, damp soil and lush pine needles underfoot, and Ellie’s there, even though she’s not. She’s in the goddamn _wind_ and how is that fair? _How is that fair?_

Dina’s hanging up the bedsheets on the drying line and listening to the bubbling babble of the baby playing in the grass and for a second she can hear it, the sound of that low, easy laughter. Ellie’s voice, lilting to the cadence of a joke she's already told a hundred times. Too many times. Not enough times.

Dina’s lying awake in the half-empty bed and wondering why the walls are so fucking gray. Sleep won't come, can't come, here in the cacophony of this roaring, deafening silence. She's touching the pillow next to her, careful, like it might be a bomb, and she's letting herself remember the late afternoons spent here. Those minutes, hours, days spent with Ellie close enough to touch, just right here. She’s letting herself think about it, carefully, like the memories are a stray dog that might bite her outstretched hand at any moment. She’s thinking about the pattern of the freckles across her nose and the shape of her dumb, easy grin, and the way her hair would flash red in the sunlight from the window, when it was unkempt and wild from being tangled in Dina’s hands and--

It’s too fucking much. It’s too far. It’s too good, and those stray dog memories do what stray dogs do best--it clamps down on her, sinks teeth down deep, sends her into breathless agony.

So she's folding in on herself, as small as she can get, as if that might help--

it won't--

and she's giving in to the grief again.

The nights give way to days give way to nights give way to days and time stretches, becomes pliable and deceptive and meaningless. She waits on the porch for what seems like hours, but it’s only minutes. She wanders around the house like a stranger in her own home for what seems like minutes, but really--it’s been weeks. 

And the weeks unfold into months, no matter what she does to stop them. 

She's laughing with her son and suddenly feeling lonely for the company of a ghost.

She's going into the bedroom and she's ripping the clothes from the closet, throwing them into the floor, because she’s had enough. Her grief is fermenting, boiling over into deep, hot rage, and she's going to burn them, like a funeral pyre, like a fucking baptism, she's going to clean Ellie away and be made whole. 

But the jeans and t-shirts and flannel button-downs just sit in the floor where she’s thrown them and she can't make them move. Can't carry them out. Can't let them go. Can’t make them leave. She just can’t, and she hates herself for it.

She's falling asleep with flannel sleeves against her cheek, with the smell of dark, clean soil and pine needles, the metal from unchanged guitar strings and wood smoke and something she can't put a name to, a scent that is wholly, unmistakably _Ellie._

She’s realizing it’s the first time she’s said her name in months, even in her own head, and it pulls her down, fills her up, sours her stomach and makes her wish she could disappear, just for a second. She needs just a moment, a single moment of relief from the crushing weight of this, the weight of her absence.

She just wants to stop remembering, and yet the idea of forgetting feels like hot needles under her skin, makes her afraid that someday she won't have a choice. Someday it's all going to slip away from her and she won't be able to find it. Won't be able to call up her face, the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin. 

She'll be gone. Really gone.

Her son is taking his first steps and she’s cheering for him and then she’s laughing and then she’s crying, deep and inconsolable, because no one else knows about it, about the steps. Because there was only one witness instead of two. 

Shouldering the problems alone, that’s the easy part. But the loneliness is sharpest during these little victories, these lonesome celebrations. 

She's sitting on the porch again and waiting again and she’s hating herself for it again.

She's losing her mind.

Losing herself.

She abandons ship in the spring, because she can't afford to let them both drown. 

She's going back to Jackson.

\--

When the fall comes, it brings dancing and parties and she tries to be alive, the way she used to be alive. She smiles and laughs at all the right moments. It's easy, with enough practice. You can find the rhythm, if you try. You can navigate by cadence and if you time it right, you can look more alive than dead. You can do it.

A man tries to kiss her, and she doesn't stop him. Because she misses this, misses knowing that she is real and tangible and can be touched. That she's not a ghost, she's alive, she really is, there's blood under her skin still--listen, you can hear it rushing in her ears. 

She's deciding that she's going to let him take her clothes off and make her feel nothing. Blissful, beautiful nothing. It's an imperfect solution but it's better than dying, and she lied when they asked but she's thought of it. She has.

But they're still just kissing when the tears start, as unwanted and unstoppable as an incoming tide. Because all the rhythms are off and he tastes like coffee and bourbon and he's just not her, not at all, not even a little. And all it does is remind her how it felt when Ellie would smile against her lips--sometimes an invitation, or a request, or a challenge, but sometimes for no reason at all. Sometimes just because, for a moment, they were happy.

The tears aren't doing it for him and he says it's been six months and that they all know she's dead. 

Everything in her comes undone and she screams something at him. Words, some kind of words, meaningless in the long run. Because he's not wrong. He leaves but he's not wrong.

He's not fucking wrong.

She's reading to her son and he's getting still in her lap, fighting sleep and losing. His breathing is getting even and deep and he tucks his head against her shoulder. He's warm and real and good, loves and trusts her despite the damage, the hollowness she feels, the distraction of her pain.

He loves her even though she hasn't earned it, just because she's _there_. His love is conditionless, unbiased, without exception. It's whole, and wide open, and unafraid. 

She's finding a way, because she has to. Finding a way for him. 

Finding a way to get better.

\--

_**ELLIE.** _

She's sitting on the porch of Joel's old house because she doesn’t know where else to go. Here in the empty hours of the early morning, she's sitting on the front steps and watching the sun come up and she's trying to feel like she belongs, like this is right, like she's not a stranger. Like has a right to be here. Like she’s even a real person.

She can't go inside. Not yet. Not now. Let the sun come up. Let there be a new day. Let her start over.

She closes her eyes, lets the new sunlight hit her face, and she tries to make it count, every second. Tries to imagine this is the first sunrise she's ever seen. It's not hard. Because maybe it is. Maybe she died out there. Maybe she's someone else now. It's not hard to imagine. It's really not.

In the stillness of the morning she hears footsteps, someone running, and when she opens her eyes, there’s Dina. Standing at the end of the sidewalk. Breathing down deep gulps of air, pale and shaken.

Her face is blank, impossible to read, an empty slate of disbelief or anger or relief, Ellie really can’t begin to tell them apart.

Ellie's legs work on their own, send her to her feet, force her into a wavering step forward. But she hesitates, because Dina looks like a wild animal, like the slightest move might send her running back for safety, and so Ellie waits. Sways there at the bottom of the steps and waits.

Dina crosses the length of the sidewalk in just a few paces and she hesitates there in front of Ellie and all at once she's holding Ellie's face in both her hands, thumbs pressing hard against Ellie’s cheeks, like she didn't expect it to work, didn't expect to find full flesh and blood under her fingers.

"You're fucking real," Dina whispers, and her voice is fractured and afraid and filled with a refusal to believe, really believe, "You're fucking _here."_

Ellie lays her hands over Dina's, over her own face, and she nods, she nods like her life depends on it but she says nothing, because the words are churning in her mouth but they won't come out. 

She’s said it a thousand times, a hundred thousand times, on her way back--all of her apologies. Had practiced the words a million different ways, even in the times when the water was scarce and her lips had cracked and her voice was a rasping husk of nothing--she still whispered it to herself, hoping somehow, maybe, Dina could hear it. Could feel it. Would know it.

But now it's tangled up on her tongue because there are too many things to say, too many ways she needs to beg for forgiveness; because there aren't words big enough for what she needs to tell Dina, what she needs Dina to know. 

And all at once, Dina pulls her hands away as if she's been burned. She takes a step back. Every inch of her is visibly trembling, and the conflict on her face is apparent. Ellie starts to reach out to her.

The slap stings against Ellie's cheek, but she shows no sign of surprise. Just stares back at Dina in empty silence. Dina starts to cry. Really cry. The sight rips through Ellie.

Dina pushes her and she stumbles back a step but doesn't fight, doesn't protest, doesn't say anything. 

Dina's face is rage and pain and relief; terror and hope and agony. She is barely contained, a trembling vessel about to explode.

“ _A year,_ ” Dina sobs out at her, “It’s been a fucking _year.”_

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t think there’s anything she _can_ say. 

“I thought you were _dead.”_

Ellie looks down at her feet.

“ _Fucking say something.”_

Ellie brings her gaze back up, but there’s a hollow, haunted look in Dina that leaves her at a loss and she forces out the only words she knows, the only way she knows them.

“I’m sorry, Dina.”

Her voice is small and hoarse and pathetic and she can hear it but she can’t change it.

Dina’s mouth opens for a moment, as if she might have some response, but then she just shakes her head, shakes her head and turns and leaves Ellie standing there, in front of the porch steps, with her cheek stained red and her one, thin, woefully inadequate apology still hanging in the air.

She could call out or chase her down but in what world has she earned the right? In what world does she deserve to say any words to Dina at all?

She’s lost too much. Too much of everything, including herself. There isn’t enough left in here, in the hollow cave of her chest, to make things right.

Maybe coming back was a mistake.

Maybe it really was.

  
  



	2. Bees in My Breath

**_ELLIE._ **

"I'm gonna be real honest with you, kid…" Tommy says in a slow drawl, "You look bad. Real bad."

Ellie looks up across the table at him, chews her stale granola bar slowly, because her stomach, her entire body, is still completely fucked after the months of limited food. The periods of near starvation. It didn't seem important then, the idea that it might leave her permanently damaged, that she might never fully recover--after all, she had no reason to believe she wasn't going to die. The idea of a long life, of making it to old age, was a kind of fantasy that never solidified for her, even in the best of times.

"You don't smell great, either," Tommy mumbles, "The hell did you get yourself into out there?"

Ellie holds his gaze, chews the granola thoroughly. 

"Did you do it?" He asks in a quiet, gruff voice, "Did you kill that bitch or what?"

She lays the granola down, only half finished. Her stomach hurts.

The house hasn't changed at all, she notices, save for the evidence that Tommy has been staying there. Joel was clearly the more tidy brother. 

The living room is still flooded with morning light, warm and alive and inviting. She wants to sit there, on the couch, and be warm and still for a while. Wants to sleep for a few days straight. Wants to leave. Wants to stay. Wants to know she’s doing the right thing.

"You didn't do it," Tommy says with some mixture of disbelief and betrayal, "You went all that fuckin' way and you  _ still  _ didn't do it."

Ellie’s gaze falls to the table. She’s too tired for these questions. She really is.

“Could have,” She says in a quiet, dry rasp, “But...no.”

"Why the fuck  _ not _ ?"

"Had to make a choice," She says, eyes still downcast, thinking, trying to put words to this thing, this decision, this moment still emblazoned on the fabric of her soul, like a hot brand, "I could kill her, or I could keep on living. But I couldn't do both…" 

She shakes her head slowly, gently drums the remaining fingers of her left hand against the table, "I couldn't do both, Tommy."

He catches sight of her hand and looks away too quick. Guilty. He slumps heavy in his chair. 

He looks worse than when she left. Older, exhausted, too thin. There's a tightness in his jaw, and it reminds her of Joel.

"I never shoulda made you go," He says and his voice is a tightwire, a thin sheet of ice about to shatter, "You gave him everything. You really did. Ain't much more I can ask from you, is there?"

Ellie looks at the worn, smooth surface of the table. She shrugs.

"It was my mistake to make, Tommy," She says, “Not yours. Think we both gave up more than Joel would’ve ever wanted from us.”

They both know it’s true. That Joel wouldn’t have wanted this, to have the pair of them at a table, each maimed on his behalf.

“Yeah…” Tommy says it slowly, “Yeah, we fucked up. We did. Look, you know you’re welcome here as long as you want. This house--it’s more your house than it was ever mine. I just didn’t know where else to go, after, y’know--after Maria and I went our separate ways. You need anything from me, all you gotta do is ask, kid.”

Ellie shrugs again.

“I mean...I could use a few fingers, if you got any of those layin’ around.”

Tommy stares across the table at her, as if he’s not quite sure what to make of the joke--like he’s deciding whether or not he needs to be worried for her mental state.

But then he gives a short, barking laugh.

“You’re something else, you know it?” He laughs, “Goddamn something else.”

There's a knock on the kitchen door, and the handle clicks as someone lets themselves inside.

Tommy immediately looks uncomfortable as Maria steps into the kitchen. There's a palpable kind of tension, like the space between repelling magnets.

"I'm gonna step out for a bit," Tommy says as if this is a spontaneous idea that has nothing to do with Maria, "I'll, uh...I'll be back.”

"Maria," He says shortly as he slips past her and out the kitchen door.

"Tommy," She says in short reply.

When he's gone, Maria takes a seat at the table without waiting to be asked.

"Jesus Christ," She says softly, "How in the ever-loving  _ hell  _ are you here right now?"

Ellie doesn't have an answer, but she's not sure Maria was really expecting one anyway. She fidgets uncomfortably with the wrapper of the half-eaten granola bar.

"How'd you know I was here?" Ellie asks.

"Same way Dina knew," Maria says, and it feels like a dig, but maybe it would hurt to hear Dina's name right now no matter the context, "People talk. You were seen this morning, coming into town like the literal walking dead. Had to come see it with my own eyes."

Ellie holds up both hands, some gesture in between a shrug and a  _ well-here-I-am.  _

"Well...I'm glad your back," Maria says, and then, "Really. Maybe I think you never should've left in the first place, but--it's a relief that you're alive. Are you staying in Jackson, or going back to the farm?"

"I...haven't really thought about it," Ellie confesses, "The farm was...empty, so I just came to the only other place I knew."

"Yeah," Maria says slowly, "Dina came back to Jackson...oh, must have been six or seven months ago now. She struggled, Ellie. She struggled hard."

Ellie's eyes stay glued to the table. She’s carried this guilt for a year, and it only got heavier with every step she took toward Jackson--she hardly needs Maria to drive the point home, but she doesn’t argue or try to defend herself, either.

"I hope you decide to stay," Maria goes on, "Truthfully--we really need you. We opened up trade with this other settlement nearby and...it hasn't gone well. I need reliable people out on patrols, now more than ever."

"What do you mean... _ hasn't gone well?" _

Maria sighs, folds her hands together on the tabletop, "We got this system where each trade trip has a little of their people, and a little of ours. Last trip, one of theirs got killed, and they're blaming us."

"I wish I could help," Ellie says quietly, "But I don't think I can do patrols. I don't think that's in me anymore."

Maria's face registers some surprise, but ever the diplomat, she quickly recovers.

"Well...whatever you need. However long you need."

Ellie's sure that no amount of time is going to change her mind, but she nods, rather than disputing the point.

Maria starts to stand up from the table.

"It's not my business, I know," She says, "But, whatever you decide to do, stay or go...leave Dina out of it. She's been through enough."

"Maria," Ellie says, exasperated, "I know I fucked up. You don't have to tell me--"

"No, you more than fucked up," Maria interrupts sharply, "You burned everything down. That's the problem--you and Tommy, you go off and do things and you don't think about the rest of us left behind with nothing but nightmares about you bleeding out in a filthy, crumbling building somewhere."

Ellie holds her gaze. Maria is usually the picture of neutrality and control, but it's clear to see the hurt twisting up in her. Clear to see that she's still wounded over Tommy, in one way or another.

Maria isn't totally wrong--but she isn't totally right, either.

"That's not true," Ellie says after a long moment, "I thought about them every single day. Doesn't make it better. Doesn't make it right. But I thought about them."

"Yeah…" Maria scoffs derisively, "I'm sure that'll be a lot of comfort to them when you decide to take off again."

"No, Maria," Ellie reaches into her pocket, slowly draws out the knife. Her mother's knife. 

She lays it on the table. Looks up at Maria.

"I mean it, Maria," She says, barely more than a whisper, "I'm done."

\--

_**DINA**_.

Dina hesitates outside Joel's old house. She takes a few steps along the sidewalk, toward the door. She stops, turns around, walks back toward the street. Stops.

If she goes in, if she sees Ellie, there's a chance she's going to commit some kind of violence. The rage inside her is a churning sea, a black ocean ready and eager to surge forward and drown everything in front of it.

But if she  _ doesn't  _ see Ellie, she's not going to believe it. Not going to believe that she was there, just this morning. That she touched her, held her face, that she was warm and alive and real. 

She marches up the steps, determined now. She tells herself this is fine. That she can do this. That she deserves this. She deserves answers, deserves to be able to make Ellie know the extent of the damage she caused. She deserves to dish out some kind of punishment, after all these months of hell.

The door opens before she can even knock.

It’s Ellie, standing there in the doorway of Joel’s house, green eyes a little wide with surprise. It’s really her. Part of Dina still didn’t believe, what had happened this morning, but here she fucking was--in arm’s reach. 

“Dina,” Ellie says, “I--do you--would you like to--fuck, I don’t know. Do you want to come in?”

Dina doesn’t want to go in. She wants to yell at her. She wants to fight--she really does. 

But Jesus, Ellie is a pathetic mess. Her hair is long, longer than Dina remembers seeing it since she and Joel got here all those years ago. She’s too thin, and there’s a raw vulnerability in her face that’s just not like  _ Ellie.  _ She seems almost brittle, a kind of frailty that isn’t totally physical. Maybe it’s just her eyes, hollow and framed in bruise-like shadows, but there’s a deep, spiritual exhaustion radiating from every part of her. 

She’s still wearing the dingy, threadbare clothes she got here in, and there’s a fresh bloom of red at her side.

“Christ--you’re bleeding,” Dina says, motions toward the fresh flow of blood staining her t-shirt.

“Fuck,” Ellie looks down, pulls up the hem of the shirt; there’s a deep ridge of scar tissue from some kind of wound, and it seems to have been freshly opened again, and not for the first time, “I--just...I’m fine--”

“You’re not  _ fine _ ,” Dina sighs, “Just--are there any bandages in there?”

“Probably,” Ellie says, “I don’t know. Tommy’s not here…”

“God, fuck Tommy…” Dina shakes her head, and steps around Ellie, “Most of this is his fault to begin with. Just--like, sit down, yeah?”

She goes to the downstairs bathroom, throws open a cabinet; she can’t believe she’s doing this, can’t believe she’s going to fucking help. She should just leave Ellie to it, should just be fucking over this. But what’s she supposed to do, let her bleed out?

Fuck.

She brings back several items, sets them at the kitchen table, where Ellie is waiting in a chair. She looks at Dina with a steady puzzlement, a kind of guilt that’s almost child-like in its sincerity. 

But she hadn’t been child-like when she left. There hadn’t been anything pliable or innocent or easy in that. And Dina holds on to the memory, that moment Ellie made her choice, and uses it to strengthen her resolve.

“Well?” She says impatiently.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Ellie insists, “You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me.”

“I fucking  _ know _ ,” Dina says, “Do you want me to go or what?”

“No,” Ellie says quickly, “No, I don’t--”

“Then let me help.”

Ellie holds her gaze for a long, wavering moment, as if trying to decide if this is a good idea. What’s she trying to hide?

She looks away, reaches down, grabs the hem of her shirt. She lifts it up, over her head, and a shock passes through Dina.

“Oh…” She says softly, “Oh, Ellie…”

Her body is a kaleidoscoping landscape of pain, a visceral image of pure and punitive damage, painted all in hues of blue and green, purple and red. 

She reaches out, gently touches a section of Ellie’s pummeled skin. Ellie doesn’t offer a response, only keeps her gaze firmly affixed elsewhere, refusing to look at Dina.

She came here to punish Ellie. She really did. And she still doesn’t understand it all, still can’t let go or forgive but in that instant, part of her understands this tiny portion of it, this small truth--she doesn’t need to punish Ellie, because Ellie’s already been punishing herself.

Maybe that was always the point. The thing she really went looking for in the first place--a way to make herself hurt on the outside as much as she did on the inside. A way to manifest the guilt in a visible, tangible way.

Dina clenches her jaw, stunned and stiff with the brutality of it. Quietly, gently, she cleans the open wound, and Ellie never flinches, even though it has to hurt, it  _ has  _ to hurt. Ellie is still as a statue, almost as if she's afraid a sudden movement might be disastrous. Might break the moment. 

Dina applies the bandage and it isn't until the job is done that she lets the reality of it really, truly saturate her.

She sinks to her knees in front of Ellie, who is still refusing to look at her, and she pulls Ellie’s hand into her own.

And it isn’t until that moment that she realizes.

That she notices.

The vacancies.

“Ellie--” She says, voice soft with blooming horror, “ _ Ellie--” _

“I’m sorry,” Ellie says it with a choking desperation, watching as Dina turns her left hand over, looks down at the nothingness there, “ _ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--” _

“Ellie, oh my god--Jesus, Ellie…” Dina sobs and closes the maimed hand in both of her own, holding it there like something sacred; she closes her eyes, as if that will fix this, will make it better, “Why, Ellie?  _ Why?” _

It might as well be her own hand. It might as well be her own body. And some part of Ellie must understand that, because she’s still apologizing, saying it over and over like a prayer. 

But like with most prayers, it doesn’t bring any real answers. It doesn’t call down any miracles. It doesn’t ignite any magic. It doesn’t ease Dina’s grief, it doesn’t end her mourning or provide divine healing. 

But, in it’s own broken, imperfect way--it’s a start.


	3. Don't Tell Maria

_**_B E F O R E_** _

_**ELLIE**_.

It's loud in here. 

They've only been in Jackson a few days and it's a little disorienting still, being with this many people all at once. For a while, she wasn't sure this many people were even left in the world. Definitely not outside of a QZ, at the very least. But here they are, gathered round tables with their dinners in front of them, talking and laughing and yelling and smiling and being thoroughly alive. 

She'd always known it was bullshit, what they used to say in the QZ. How they used to try to convince everyone that the misery was necessary.  _ I'm kicking the shit out of you for your own good.  _ Lying fuckers.

No one's getting kicked, or starved, or kidnapped here in Jackson--and yet, it seems to work. So far.

She's even made a friend.

_ Friend  _ is a strong word. A girl named Cat noticed her drawings. Invited her to eat dinner with some of the other kids. Maybe it should have been fun, or exciting, being around kids her own age again, but she was very aware that kids could be worse than the adults sometimes. Kids were fucking monsters.

It's not helping that she doesn't know how to talk to them. They're chattering and chiding each other, leaning over the table to swipe food from one another, rolling their eyes and laughing and talking in the secret code of inside jokes. A code she doesn't know or understand yet. 

It's like being asked to sing along with a song you've never heard before. Everyone else knows the lyrics, the melody, the tempo, but she's just trying to wing it. And when you don't know a song, the only logical solution is to just not sing. 

So she's sitting here next to Cat, who is doing her best to keep Ellie included in the conversation, and she's trying not to crawl out of her skin. When she looks up across the dining hall, she finds Joel staring at her. He gives her an encouraging thumb's up and she rolls her eyes, tries to turn her body away from him, tries to prevent the possibility that they will ever make eye contact again. Like, fucking  _ ever.  _

He's so damned embarrassing. He probably knows she's completely fucked up and not normal. Probably knows how she feels completely incapable of fitting in here, incapable of finding common ground with these kids who have been safe so long, they no longer remember the white hot screaming terror of the outside world. 

He probably knows and she can't decide if she hates that, or if it's some kind of a relief. That at least someone knows her. Really  _ knows  _ her. He's embarrassing as fuck, but she would one thousand percent be sitting beside him, eating their dinner in comfortable silence.

Instead she's dodging a dinner roll and trying not to overreact. Trying to convince her animal senses that it was just a dinner roll, not a mortal threat--and it wasn't even intended for her.

"Oh, shit--I'm sorry!" A blonde-haired boy down the table makes guilty eye contact with her, then he turns his attention on another boy at the table, "You fucking ducked--I almost hit the new girl!"

"Can you guys stop being animals for like five minutes?!" Cat demands of them both.

A girl with a long twist of dark hair a few seats down stands up.

"Yeah," She says, "Calm down, you animals!" And she chucks a roll down at the blonde boy. He displays exaggerated surprise and indignation, but catches the roll before it hits him.

"Thanks, Dina!" He laughs and takes a bite from the roll; he turns back to the first boy and says, "Hey, look, Ethan--I'm  _ eating _ Dina's  _ roll _ \--"

"What?" The other boy laughs but is clearly confused.

"Dina's  _ roll _ , I'm  _ eating  _ it--"

They both begin to snicker.

"You fucking wish, Ben," Dina calls down the table with a roll of her eyes, "Keep it up, I will straight up murder you both."

" _ Feisty,"  _ Ethan calls at her, "Please murder me anytime you want, Dina--you can murder me all night--"

He and Ben descend into uncontrollable laughter, until a well-aimed spoonful of mashed potatoes smacks Ethan full in the eye with a resounding  _ plop.  _

The rest of the table is laughing now, including Ellie. Dina holds her spoon up to her mouth, as if it's the barrel of a gun, blows away an imaginary trail of smoke. Ethan grumbles and rakes watery potatoes from his eyes while Ben laughs hysterically.

Ellie leans over her notebook, open on the table in front of her, begins to draw something new. 

"Dina sure knows how to work a crowd, huh?" Cat says with a quiet laugh next to Ellie; a round of light applause breaks out for Dina.

"Please, I'm just doing the Lord's work," Dina says humbly in response.

Ethan gets up from his seat, shoves his tray away, takes off from the table, still rubbing at his eye. 

"Shit…" Cat mumbles, "I better to make sure he's okay. Might have actually hurt him. I'll be right back though."

Ellie nods, even though mashed-potato-related injuries seem like a really fucking stupid thing about which to be worried. 

Cat slips away from the table and Ellie leans further over her notebook, lets the noise fall away as she perfects the curve of a particular shape on the page.

"Holy shit," A voice says directly across from her, "Is that  _ me?" _

How long has Dina been sitting there, watching her? Instinctively, she starts to pull the notebook closer to her, to shield the contents, but Dina reaches across the table in a flash and liberates the notebook entirely.

"That's  _ me,"  _ Dina laughs, "Firing a gun with mashed potato bullets. And I've even got a sweet cowboy hat? I fucking love this."

Ellie's skin is screaming, her brain pulling itself apart as it tries to decide what emotion it wants to feel--sheer panic, indignant rage, or something else, something she can't quite nail down. Something tied directly to the shape of the other girl's smile, the warm authenticity there. 

"I...it's just a dumb drawing," Ellie assures her, fingers drumming nervously against the table top, "It's nothing."

"And there's Ethan--that's Ethan, right? In the eye patch? Fucking brilliant."

"Well, I do the best with what I've got," Ellie shrugs, smiles.

"So where are you from, new girl?" Dina asks, turning the page on Ellie's notebook, causing Ellie's stomach to twist up in nervous pain.

"Uh--a little of everywhere," Ellie says, watching Dina study the previous page of drawings--sketches of horses from the stable, "But mostly the Boston QZ, I guess."

"Boston? You came all the way from fucking  _ Boston?" _

Ellie nods.

"That's crazy. For the record, I think your old man might be a little worried about you."

Both girls turn to look toward Joel. His gaze snaps down toward his food, feigning innocence by aimlessly prodding the meatloaf on his plate.

"It's like he  _ wants  _ to embarrass me," Ellie mumbles darkly.

"I dunno," Dina says, watching Joel, "I think it's kinda sweet. Makes me miss  _ my  _ dad."

The right question might have been to ask where her dad was--but it wasn't hard to guess the answer. Probably the same place as most everyone else, Ellie imagined. But it did make Ellie feel a little guilty for being so annoyed at Joel. He really wasn't so bad. Most of the time.

"So are you guys staying, or just passing through?" Dina asks.

"Staying. I think."

"Cool," Dina turns the page on the notebook again, "Well...welcome to Jackson. If you really made it all the way from Boston, you probably saw some real shit, huh?"

"I mean…" Ellie hesitates, scratches her ear uncomfortably, thinking about the long months on the road, "...they were real, and they were  _ shit _ , so...yeah, I guess so."

"You should think about doing patrols," Dina says, "It's not for everybody, but we need people who can handle it."

"Patrols?"

"Yeah, it's this system we have. Teams that go out and keep things in order. It's usually pretty quiet and boring, honestly, but it can get intense, too. Helps to know someone with some experience has your back. Like someone who came all the way from the fucking  _ Boston QZ." _

"Yeah…" Ellie says slowly, thinking, "I'll look into it."

"Oh!" Cat says as she slides back into the seat next to Ellie, "Aren't Ellie's drawings great, Dina?"

Dina's eyes are downcast, studying a particular page, and there's a small, surprisingly somber smile at her lips. 

"Yeah," She says, and she slides the notebook back across the table to Ellie, "I really like them. You're pretty good, Boston."

It's a drawing of Joel, quick and messy and imperfect--but done with honesty. With authentic feeling.

"Your dad's staring again, by the way," Dina adds.

All three girls look his way, and this time Dina gives a lively wave.

Caught, Joel lifts an embarrassed hand, waves back meekly.

Ellie laugh and waves, too.

\--

**_DINA_**.

There's low music pulsing in the hazy air of the cellar, weaving easy-like through the sound of relaxed, happy conversations. Alex's dad found an old iPod on his way back through Dubois, and it might as well have been the holy fucking grail. It was weird sometimes, thinking about how some schmuck loading music indiscriminately onto the thing for the last time, maybe before a run, or going to work, or just doing chores at home--and never knowing it would one day be the center of life for a whole group of teenagers, would be the pinnacle of all things  _ music  _ for an entire town of kids.

It was a good thing that schmuck had decent taste music, at least.

"Yeah," Dina was saying to a group gathered in the corner, "Maria was all, ' _ I heard you kids were throwing food in the dining hall,'  _ and I was like, ' _ Me? Throwing food? Surely, you jest.'"  _ There's a smattering of laughter before she continues, "Anyway, she's like  _ 'Ethan could have really been hurt, and you're wasting food. I want you on stall duty for a week.'  _ And that's the story of how Ethan was mauled by a deadly glob of mashed potatoes and ran to Maria about it like a fucking baby."

There's laughter, and the conversation breaks into grumblings about how unfair Maria is, mixed with general disgust for Ethan's breaking of the golden rule: unless someone's dead or dying,  _ don't tell Maria. _

But Dina is distracted.

She takes a drink from her glass, a recycled mason jar full of an imperfect batch of beer, snuck out the back door of Derek's dad's distillery before it could be discarded. It tastes like it might be a better paint thinner than a beer, but no one's complaining.

Ellie and Cat are sitting together on the old couch, an ugly brown thing propped up on cinder blocks and a prayer, but it does the job. And right now the job is keeping Ellie and Cat glued together, forearms nearly touching every so often. 

Dina can't hear what they're saying, but Ellie is smiling that smile. The one that's a little crooked, a little lopsided and charmingly asymmetrical. A half-grin that never quite breaks into a full smile. She's showing Cat something in her notebook, and Cat is laughing, pressing her hand over her mouth in a fit of genuine hilarity.

And Ellie is just smiling, looking pleased with herself, with whatever joke she's told.

Dina couldn't fully understand what continued to bring the two of them together. Cat was a sunny, bubbly optimist, sometimes to the point of being obnoxious; she was cool, Dina could admit that, but she wasn't the same kind of cool as Ellie. 

Cat was gentle and kind and uncomplicated. But Ellie? Ellie was the edge of a knife. The kind of thing you want to be close to, even though you know deep down it's probably going to hurt like a bitch. Even though you know there's a chance it's gonna cut you to the bone.

But Ellie seems unaware of this discrepancy. 

Cat leans into her, whispers something into her ear, and Ellie's eyes widen in some kind of shock. What the fuck are they talking about? The curiosity is enough to burn Dina up.

Cat passes something to Ellie. A joint. Ellie looks unconvinced but Cat holds up a single finger.  _ Just once. _

Ellie takes a draw from the thing, leans over and immediately begins to cough. Cat laughs but pats her back encouragingly.

"Dina?" Someone says nearby, "Dina, are you okay?" 

"What?" Dina asks, startled back into the reality that she's been ignoring the conversation around her for several minutes, "Yeah, I just--I think I'm gonna step outside for a minute."

She slips from the group. She has to walk past the couch to get to the stairs. She could just stop, just talk to them, just stop being so fucking weird about it. Talking has never been a problem for her, and yet she can't bring herself to do it. 

Maybe it's just because the two of them seem so close already, close in a very specific way, the kind of way that doesn't leave room for a third person. 

Which is fine.

Dina's fine with that. 

She really is.

As Dina passes the couch, Ellie is still laugh-coughing and Cat says, "Don't worry, I'm more than happy to help you practice."

Could Cat  _ be  _ any less subtle?

The cellar opens up into an old barn, where more kids are milling around, talking and drinking. Fighting. Kissing. The full range of teenage interactions, on display. Dina keeps going.

Outside, the night air is calm and clear, broken only by the sound of some boys out in the field on the other side of the barn, throwing rocks into the pond and whooping loudly over whose rock has gone farthest. 

Dina leans against the rough, cool barn wall, with its peeling red paint. For a moment she considers testing her  _ is this beer or paint peeler  _ theory, but she decides she'd rather not know. She's already had too much of it, no matter what it is.

It's only a few minutes later that someone else exits the warm light of the barn, comes out into the dim evening. 

It's Ellie. 

She wanders over, leans up against the wall next to Dina.

"Boston," Dina says in acknowledgement, "Where's Cat?"

"Uh--I guess something happened with the iPod. She's trying to help fix it. Just thought I'd, y'know...get some air while she's busy."

"It gets a little crowded down there, yeah," Dina says in solidarity, "So...not big on the weed, huh?"

Ellie laughs self-deprecatingly.

"No. I mean--yes. I don't know. I've just...spent a lot of running. Y'know, before. Never really had time to try it out or whatever. Did you really just call it  _ the  _ weed?"

"I think I did," Dina admits and they both laugh, "My sister, Talia, used to call it that. Ironically, I think, but--then it just stuck."

"I didn't know you have a sister," Ellie says, intrigued, "I haven't met her yet--"

"She didn't make it," Dina says flatly, "Murdered by these fuckers on our way here from New Mexico."

"Fuck," Ellie says, and there's genuine distres there, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"It's cool," Dina says, "I think it's important to talk about that shit. She died, but she wasn't  _ erased from existence.  _ You keep people with you by talking about them. Y'know?"

Ellie looks out into the dark, makes a face that says  _ sure, that makes sense. _

"I'm glad you decided to do the patrolman training, y'know," Dina says after a moment, "You know what you're doing."

"Yeah, I think it suits me," Ellie shrugs, "The scariest thing so far is how they're willing to let Ben have a gun."

"God, I know, right?" Dina sighs incredulously, "He's for sure gonna end up shooting someone in the foot on accident."

"Yeah, and then Lee's gonna come after him with that mannequin leg--did you see that, the other day? How she clotheslined that runner with a  _ mannequin leg?"  _

"I saw it," Dina confirms with an incredulous laugh, "I would  _ not  _ want to be on her bad side. She's fucking terrifying."

"I like her," Ellie says firmly, "She's tough."

"Huh," Dina makes a noncommittal noise into the mouth of her glass as she takes another long drink.

"What?" Ellie asks, and she's wearing that lopsided grin again, the one that makes Dina uncomfortably disoriented, "What's  _ huh  _ mean?"

"I just--y'know, you seem to like Cat, too. She's not tough."

"I mean…" Ellie says, clearly confused, "Are there rules against being friends with more than one kind of person?"

"No," Dina says quickly, already regretting bringing Cat up, "I'm just...trying to figure you out, I guess."

"Trying to figure me out?" Ellie repeats, and she sounds much too pleased with herself, "Wow. Well. You should probably give up. I'm...like way too mysterious and interesting to be  _ figured out _ , you know."

"And so  _ humble,  _ too," Dina laughs, "Damn, maybe you're right. Maybe you're more work than you're worth."

Ellie's jaw drops with feigned offense, and Dina snickers into her drink. 

"Excuse me, I am--I mean...Fuck, you're right, I'm probably way more work than I'm worth."

They both laugh before Dina says, "I highly doubt that."

Their gazes meet, catch, hold fast for a heartbeat. Ellie does that half-grin and shrugs.

"Let me know when you find out," She says quietly before taking a drink of her own cache of off-kilter beer.

"So you  _ don't  _ think I should give up on figuring you out then?"

Ellie shrugs again, still grinning, and in the cool air of the evening, Dina feels a rush of something unexpected. Like a low hum of electricity just under her skin. 

She's never wished so badly that she could hear someone else's thoughts, could see into another person's brain, just for a second.

_ What are you really thinking, Boston? _

"Ellie!" Cat's voice calls from the doorway of the barn, "Ellie, c'mon, you're missing a good song--oh, hey, Dina. Jesse's asking for you downstairs, y'know."

Ellie glances over at Dina again, raises her brows in a way that asks  _ should we go back in?  _

Dina sighs, smiles, "C'mon, Boston, let's go."

"Boston?" Cat says as they pass her, "Her name's Ellie--Dina, her name is Ellie."

Dina rolls her eyes and Ellie refuses to meet her gaze, suppressing a smile.   
  
  



	4. Football Fields Apart

**_ELLIE._ **

It was a strange feeling, eating breakfast in this kitchen again.

She hadn't always eaten breakfast with Joel, but she knew she always had the option. All she had to do was walk in, pour out some cereal, and sit down across the table from him. He even kept her favorite kind there--some of the honeyed granola from Marjorie's shop. He never said it, never brought it to her attention, it was just always there, in case she wanted it. He didn't even like it, wouldn't eat it. Kept it there just for her.

It was difficult to think of all the breakfasts she'd missed. All the opportunities to just sit at a table with him. To talk, or not talk. The questions she didn't ask. The things she never gave him a chance to say. Her anger had loomed so large, it was hard to see anything else around it at the time. Hard to see him sitting at a kitchen table every morning, just in case it was a morning she wanted to eat breakfast, too.

Now it's Tommy sitting across the table from her. He's eating the honeyed granola and spilling the milk off his spoon because depth perception is still an issue. He's trying to pretend it's not a problem, and Ellie's pretending not to notice. 

They're eating in silence and it's not the same, but it's something. It's a thing Ellie knows she wants--mornings in the kitchen, drenched in calm sunlight. 

"So how's Dina?" Tommy says around a mouthful of cereal, still staring down into his bowl.

"Uh…" Ellie says quietly, moving her own cereal around idly for a moment, "I don't really know. She hasn't come around since the day I got back."

"That was a week ago," Tommy says, fixing her with a confused gaze, "You mean you hadn't seen her in a week and you didn't go find her?"

"I just--I don't know," Ellie shrugs, "I'm trying to...give her space."

"Sure, give her space, but not a whole fuckin' football field, Christ--"

"I dont...I don't know how long a football field is. No one's played football in thirty years, Tommy."

"It's a long fucking field, Ellie."

"I'm just sayin', man."

"Goddamn kids not knowin' about goddamn football…" He grumbles and takes another clumbsy bite of cereal.

"You think I should go see her? I just don't wanna push too hard. I don't...I don't even know if she still--you know."

"No, I don't know, I can't read minds so you're gonna have to use your damn words."

"I don't know if she still loves me," Ellie spits it out in a rush, tries to suppress the lurching feeling it sends down into her stomach, "I don't know if she still wants me. I don't know if she even wants me here in Jackson."

Tommy takes another slow bite of his breakfast, obviously stalling his response.

"Well…" He mumbles around his food, "I mighta heard she was...well, y'know...seein' someone."

Ellie looks quickly down at her food, at the drifting kernels in the field of white milk, trying to contain the feeling in her stomach, that feeling like she's just missed a step going down the stairs. 

"But that don't mean anything," He says quickly, "That don't mean you shouldn't go see her. Me and you, kid...we got a habit of blowing our whole lives up, that's the honest truth. You blew it up. And that means maybe there are things what can't be fixed and you'll have to live with that."

Ellie drums her fingers anxiously against the table, still not meeting his gaze for fear that her expression might be anything but totally neutral and calm and collected.

"But...I know you. And I know Dina. And I know...I know some of what was between you. I know that what you had was…" He hesitates, looking stubbornly down at the cereal swimming in his bowl, "It was big, and real, and...not something you come across every day. And if I had to guess, I'd say you need Dina in your life, even if she's just your friend and nothing else. Am I right?"

Ellie shifts in her seat, and she still feels like she might throw up, thinking about Dina with someone else. Imagining someone else whispering in her ear. Someone else making her laugh. Someone else touching her. 

But she knows Tommy isn't wrong. She left. She abdicated her rights. Maybe the thought is currently causing some empty place in her to howl with pain and terror, but maybe this person, this new person--it's possible they're better for Dina and JJ. 

Not just  _ possible _ . Highly likely. 

She couldn't deny that she did a shit job taking care of them. All she had to do was stay. All she had to do was choose them. The way Joel always chose her. Again and again. No matter the cost, the pain, the sacrifice. 

Joel tried to show her how to do it. Tried to show her how to love someone. How to  _ really  _ love them. And she still fucked it up. 

And there was the fact that Ellie--she was a shit person, and she knew it. There were stains on her hands that were never going to wash away. There were things burned onto the fabric of her soul that no amount of good could ever undo. She had committed crimes that defied the basic boundaries of what it meant to be human. She had gone to a deep, dark, animal place, and sometimes she still wasn't sure she had ever really come back.

It'd be unfair, an outright lie, to say that Dina and JJ didn't deserve better.

They deserved so, so much better.

It was also true that Dina's value to her wasn't dependent on whether or not they were together romantically. The question became whether or not Dina felt the same. And, moreover, whether or not Ellie could live that out, could really watch someone else love Dina and JJ the way she wanted to love them. Whether or not she could love Dina without being  _ in love  _ with her. 

That felt impossible as she sat there in front of her increasingly soggy, bloated breakfast. But she was willing to try. She just wanted to be in their proverbial band, even if it meant she was only allowed to watch from the audience.

"You're right," Ellie said at last, her voice a low rasp, "So what do I do, Tommy?"

"Good lord," He sighed, "Just go over there and see them, ya dummy."

Tommy had his issues, but she couldn't deny that he had a way of simplifying things.

"Before you go," He added, "I was thinking…" He set his spoon down; it clinked against the bowl, "This house...it oughta be yours."

"Tommy--" Ellie started with a shake of her head.

"Nah, I mean it. Stupid for you to be living in a garage when we both know Joel woulda wanted you to have this place. Plus…" He paused, almost involuntarily, gathering himself for what he was about to say, "Plus, if you and Dina and JJ...if you  _ do  _ make it...well, god, I can't think of a thing Joel woulda wanted more than to see you here, with a family of your own. Damn…" He gave a dry, bark of a laugh, "I don't think he could've even imagined it. Woulda blown his damn mind, I bet." 

He shook his head.

"Kids, Ellie," He said slowly, "They really do grow up so goddamn fast."

\--

**_DINA._ **

"Robin, have you seen the--the...shit--the thing, you know?" Dina calls into the kitchen as she overturns the couch cushions for the fourth time; in the floor, JJ is splayed flat on his back, rubbing his eyes tiredly but crying with a dogged persistence.

"What thing?" Robin calls back, "I need more words than that, Dina."

"The thing with the--it's fuzzy, y'know--it's like a...a bird, maybe? Or a cat? I can't even remember--"

"Penny the Parrot?" Robin asks, leaning now in the doorway of the kitchen. It's impossible not to see it, the resemblance between Robin and Jesse. It's often a cutting reminder of what Jesse might have looked like as he grew into late middle age. Instead, he's forever twenty-one, frozen in youth in her memory. 

"Yeah," Dina says, "That's the one he's asking for."

"Check under the ottoman," Robin says, "He's always getting stuff stuck under the ottoman."

"You're a lifesaver," Dina exhales with relief and moves toward the ottoman, "Hold on, buddy, we'll find Penny--"

There's an unexpected knock at the door. 

"I got it," Robin says, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder, "You just worry about Penny."

Dina maneuvers the ottoman aside and there she is, Penny the fucking Parrot. She collects the stuffed toy and carries it to the toddler collapsed dramatically in the floor.

"Look, I found her," Dina shows him the toy; he sits up slowly, still rubbing his eyes, reaches for the toy, "What do you say we take that nap now, huh?"

JJ shakes his head, and his bottom lip trembles pitifully.

That's when Robin returns, and he looks nervous, pushing a hand through his greying hair, the same way his son used to do.

"Uh--someone's here for you," He says, "It's...it's Ellie."

A cold feeling sweeps through Dina, like plunging into an ice bath.

"What...what does she want?" Dina asks.

"I don't know," Robin says, looking down at the floor, "Just asked if you were home."

Dina straightens JJ's shirt, thinking, letting her heart hammer out a wild, conflicted rhythm inside her chest.

"Dina…" Robin says gently, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But...she's here. And that's...it's gotta be worth something."

Dina closes her eyes for a long, long moment.

"I'll...I'll go talk to her. Can you just watch him for a second, Robin?"

"Of course. How about a snack, pal?" 

JJ follows Robin into the kitchen and Dina gets to her feet. Takes a deep breath. Goes to the door.

Ellie is waiting there on the porch, grinding the toe of a well worn canvas sneaker into the wooden planks underfoot. She looks better, less gaunt and travel-weary, but there's still a lingering vulnerability that was never there before. A persistent sense that this isn't really Ellie, but maybe just her ghost.

"Dina," Ellie says, sounding surprised, even though she did, in fact, just knock on her door and ask to see her, "Hey, I--well, I just…" She taps her fingers against the outside of her leg nervously, "I was talking to Tommy and--well, he said...shit, something about...football fields and--dammit, I forgot…this sounded a lot better in my head…"

Dina stares, eyes a little wide, trying to process this series of words that makes little sense. And yet there's something there of the Ellie she knew in all that stammering. Something softer, sure, but something she can recognize, at the very least.

"I just...I was just wondering if I could see you and JJ," Ellie says at last.

Dina stiffens.

"Shit, this is--this is weird, isn't it?" Ellie says, raking her hair back away from her temples with a nervous swipe of her hand, "Why did I listen to Tommy? Football fields? Stupid. I'm sorry, Dina. I'm--I'm trying to give you space, I really am, I just...I can go. I'll just...I'll go."

Ellie turns to leave. Dina wants to let her. 

"Wait," Dina says at the last moment, "Wait. I...that would be okay. If you want to see JJ," Dina tells her, "I--yeah, I guess that would be okay. I mean, he's literally a holy terror before his nap, but as long as you're down for that…" Dina shrugs.

Ellie looks stricken, surprised, freezes up on the spot. And then a grin breaks over her face, a lopsided thing that reminds Dina of a night they once spent leaning against a barn wall.

That seems like a lifetime ago. A million years. More than that--it feels like something that happened between two totally different people. Two strangers. Two stupid, reckless teenagers.

But there's something there, in the innocence of that grin, that sticks to Dina, stays with her.

"C'mon," Dina says, "He's inside."

JJ is sitting in the floor of the kitchen now and almost instinctively, Dina sweeps him into her arms, lifts him up from the floor. Holds him close. He seems surprised, and looks around to see what the fuss is about.

"Holy shit, he's so big," Ellie says in barely a whisper, and then, realizing the profanity, "Oh, shit--I mean, I'm sorry, sorry--"

"It's fine," Dina says with a small laugh, "I mean, it's not, because he repeats literally everything--don't you, buddy?"

But luckily he's not really listening; he holds up the stuffed parrot for Dina's inspection.

"Penny," He tells Dina, as if maybe he knows she was confused about this subject earlier, "Penny, Penny…"

"I know," Dina says, "Penny Parrot. I won't forget again."

"He's...talking? He talks?" Ellie says incredulously.

Dina notices that she's standing several feet away, as if there's an invisible barrier holding her at bay.

Dina kneels to the floor with JJ.

"Hey--can you go get your dinosaurs?" She whispers to him.

He races off as quickly as someone without fully developed motor skills can race.

"He's walking--he's walking!" Ellie says, as if Dina might have missed it, "He's--he's  _ running…" _

"He'll be right back," Dina says with a smile she doesn't really want to give, but can't quite help herself, "Go ahead and sit down."

"Ellie," Robin says, and smiles broad and open at her, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Thanks, Robin, but...I had a big breakfast--"

Dina makes a scoffing noise.

"She definitely did not have a big breakfast, did she?" Robin asks Dina.

"I  _ highly  _ doubt it," Dina confirms, "Between her and Tommy, I'd be surprised if there's anything but, like, old beef jerky in a cabinet or something over there…"

"It's...new beef jerky," Ellie says with a faux defensiveness, "New-ish."

"I'm gonna make you a sandwich," Robin declares firmly, "You like peanut butter?"

"That's really okay, you don't have to--"

"Can't hear you over the sound of me putting peanut butter on the bread."

Ellie laughs quietly and a moment later, Robin lays the sandwich on the table in front of her.

"You kids seem like you have plenty to talk about," He declares, "I'm gonna go see if Mary needs help down at the shop."

"Please tell Mary I said hello," Ellie says around a bite of peanut butter and bread.

"I will," Robin promises warmly, "Dina--I'll see you in a little while."

Dina nods, even though she's unsure she wants him to go. He's a buffer between them, a helpful barrier. But he lays the dish towel on the counter and exits the kitchen door.

It's about then that JJ returns. He carries a small, plastic T-Rex to Dina.

"Great job," She says, and then, more pointedly, "Do you wanna show Ellie? Ellie loves dinosaurs."

Ellie quickly lays the sandwich down.

JJ follows Dina's gaze, seems to really see Ellie for the first time. He takes an anxious step closer to Dina.

"It's okay," Ellie tells Dina, "It's okay, it really is--"

He changes his mind, moves toward Ellie, seated in the chair. He holds out the figure for Ellie to see.

"Dee-no-soar," He says in an excited rush, "Dee-no-SOAR."

Ellie's face relaxes, lights up in a way Dina hadn't been sure was possible only a few moments ago.

"No  _ way, _ " Ellie says in an awe-struck whisper, "A real, live  _ dinosaur?" _

JJ nods in enthusiastic confirmation.

" _ Wow.  _ Can I hold him?"

JJ inches further forward, passes the figure into Ellie's waiting palms.

"Whoa, a  _ T-Rex?? _ " She exclaims, "I can't believe--ow!"

JJ stares with confusion, surprise. 

"He bit me!" Ellie says, and shakes her right hand in mock pain.

JJ begins to laugh, shaking his head in the negative. Dina can't help it--she laughs, too.

"Man, I'm telling you, this T-Rex  _ bit  _ me--ouch! He did it again!"

Peels of laughter bubble up out of JJ. Ellie laughs, too, caught up in the infectious sound.

"Jeez--got any other dinosaurs?" Ellie asks, "Maybe some that won't bite me?"

JJ nods and takes off again.

Dina laughs and it takes her a moment to realize that Ellie is laughing--but she's crying, too. She's wiping the evidence away as quick as she can, but it's there.

"Are you okay?" Dina asks gently.

"I'm fine," Ellie says in a voice thick with tears, directly contradicting the idea that she's  _ fine _ , "I just--look at little man go," She smiles with incredulity, with sadness--with pride.

"He's so big," Ellie goes on quietly, "He doesn't even remember me. I missed so much, Dina."

Dina takes a seat at the table, folds her hands quietly together.

"Yeah...yeah, you did. His first steps. First words. First birthday. The first snow, the first swim, the first time he could really jump in a rain puddle…"

"Fuck," Ellie whispers, hangs her head, eyes closed, " _ Fuck." _

"I was really angry," Dina confesses quietly, " _ Really  _ angry, at first. But I think the hardest day, the loneliest day, was the day he took his first steps…" Dina stares down at the table top, steady in relating her pain, "He just took off, y'know? And I got so excited and I--I actually looked up for you. Stupid, right? You'd already been gone for months. But I looked up and there was...just no one there. No one to be excited with. No one else to witness this thing with me. And that...that was the loneliest goddamn feeling, Ellie…"

"Dina…" Ellie says, barely more than a broken whisper, "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm not here to ask for a second chance, I'm just here because you guys...you're my world, and I just--I wanna be wherever you want me to be. Wherever you'll let me be."

"Ellie--" Dina scoffs, brow furrowed, "I don't know that you understand. I don't know that you  _ can.  _ I can't go through that again. I don't know how I'm...still here and alive and sane. I  _ can't  _ do that again. Ever."

"I'm never leaving again," Ellie promises confidently, "Not like that. Never again."

"I wish I could believe you," Dina says softly, and when she meets Ellie's gaze, there's a crumbling pain there that nearly breaks her, but she holds fast, "I really,  _ really  _ wish I could believe you, Ellie."

Ellie puts her head in her hands, and it's there again, that fragility that's somehow foreign, but also endearing. It makes Dina want to hold her, against all of her instincts. Makes her want to throw her caution and resolve to the wind and do whatever it takes to protect Ellie against everything. Against the world.

But she has too much to lose, and Ellie has already nearly cost her all of it.

"So...what do we do from here?" Ellie asks.

Dina shrugs, thinks about it, says, "I don't know. There are things you missed that you can't get back. But...there'll be more snow. More rain puddles to jump in…"

Ellie lowers her hands, seems to gain a little more resolve.

"The world is a rough place," Dina says slowly, "He needs all the people he can get. We all do."

Ellie nods in understanding.

"Dina...I just wanna be in your life. In JJ's life. Even if it's just on the sidelines."

"Okay," Dina says, weighing, considering, "Yeah...okay."

JJ returns with another dinosaur, and this time he has no qualms about diving straight toward Ellie with it. 

" _ CHOMP,"  _ He says in a gravelly voice, " _ CHOMP, CHOMP." _

"Whaaat, do all these dinosaurs bite?!" Ellie says, drawing her hands back, "These are very badly behaved dinosaurs."

JJ giggles, takes her hand, starts to lead her back toward the room containing the rest of his toys. Ellie hesitates, glancing back toward Dina as if to ask, " _ Is this okay?" _

Dina smiles, mouths silently back:

_ It's okay _

The rest of the afternoon was spent with varying dinosaur noises filling the house. A dinosaur safari began at some point, during which some of the dinosaurs naturally escaped their enclosures, forcing JJ and Ellie into a giggle-filled game of running and hiding, often with JJ atop Ellie's shoulders, of course. Ellie stopped once, after seeing Dina watching with an amused, questioning face. _Joel saw it in a movie once,_ she explained with a shrug.

She left for only a moment, just long enough to collect the laundry from the line in the yard. But when she came back, JJ was tucked comfortably into Ellie's lap on the couch. Both were sound asleep.

And Dina had to wonder if this was part of a plan. Part of some orchestrated attempt to soften her resolve. 

Because, if it was, she had to admit that it might be working.


	5. Get Me a Pen

**_DINA._ **

Dina enjoys her job.

It had been hard, coming back to Jackson, for a lot of reasons. Of no small percentage was the fact that Dina had really grown to love the work involved with maintaining the farm. It wasn't easy, but it made sense, and it gave back what you put in. Take care of the farm, and the farm would take care of you.

So it hadn't been easy to walk away, knowing she would likely have to choose some other vocation when she settled back into Jackson. Patrolling was no longer in the cards for her, either. She couldn't risk it anymore, couldn't spend those long stretches of time away from JJ.

So it was a relief when Maria suggested she might be able to help on the farm here within Jackson proper. It was a bigger, faster-paced operation than what she and Ellie had ever had, or ever wanted, but it was familiar and Dina took to it. 

"Rosa," She says as the other woman passes her in the barn, "I'm gonna need you to bring the cows down from the north pasture today. We can't put it off anymore."

"You got it, boss," Rosa assures her with a wave.

Dina isn't really _the boss,_ more like _a supervisor,_ but she can see where it didn't have the same ring to it. 

"Hey, _boss,_ " Someone says behind her, and she turns from her clipboard to find Ethan leaning close to her, "Where've you been hiding?"

She scribbles a note onto the day's log.

"I haven't been _hiding,"_ She says distractedly, "Just busy."

"I mean...it kinda seems like you've been ignoring me," He says pointedly.

"I'm just busy, Ethan," She says again, this time with more emphasis.

"Okay, I believe you," He says, palms held up, "Sounds like you could use a break. Why don't you come see me tonight. Let me cook dinner for you. That pasta you like."

He smiles behind his dark, neat beard and it's not an uninviting prospect. A single evening spent not thinking about all the moving pieces in her life seems like the kind of respite she could use. 

But she already has dinner plans for tonight. Plans that will be painfully awkward and difficult and emotionally taxing and yet it's exactly where she wants to be tonight.

"I'm having dinner with Ellie and Jesse's parents tonight," Dina explains, "Can't really back out now."

"Ok. So can I come?" He folds his arms over his chest.

She sighs, lets the clipboard fall to her side.

"It's...kind of a _family_ thing," Dina says exasperatedly.

"She's not your _family,"_ Ethan says forcefully, "She _abandoned_ you. Remember?"

"What do you want, Ethan?"

"I just miss you," He says sulkily, "Ever since she got back you've just been totally gone. Startin' to hurt my feelings, Deensy…" 

"Ethan…" She sighs, lets the clipboard fall to her side, "Look, I just...I need a minute, okay? There's just--a lot going on right now."

He gives a soft, derisive laugh, "That...almost sounds like you're breaking up with me."

"We were never _together_ , Ethan," She says with some exasperation, "I thought it was pretty clear, what this was."

"I mean--what, I was just...someone to _fuck_ until your psycho, half-dead ex wanders back into town?" He snaps loudly.

"She's not _psycho--"_

"I _love_ you, Dina--" He says with some desperation, "You never even gave me a real shot. I can take care of you, of JJ. Way better than her--"

"I don't need anyone to _take care of us_ ," Dina says defensively, "Not Ellie, not you, not anyone. _I_ can take care of us just fine, thanks."

"Dina--" He grabs her arm as she tries to walk away, "Dina, _please._ I mean it. I'm in love with you and this isn't...this isn't _fair."_

"I'm sorry if there was some confusion over this," Dina says in a sympathetic whisper, "I really am. This isn't about choosing between you or her or anyone else. Frankly, I have no idea what she really wants, because we haven't even talked about it. Not...specifically--I mean…"She sighs, pulls her arm away, "Ethan, I appreciate what you've done for me these past couple of months. But--we're just friends. You have to know that."

"That's bullshit," He says, his face flushing red, "That's _bullshit._ You never gave me a chance to be more than that. Never let me spend any time with JJ, or have dinner at your house--you just kept me at arm's length--"

"I know," Dina says pointedly, but not unkindly, "That's what I'm trying to explain to you, Ethan. I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted--"

"Dina, don't do this, goddammit," He says, but she's pulling her arm away from him.

"I have to go, Ethan. You should go home, too--"

He grabs both her arms, backs her up against a wall of the barn in a rush of fury. The wind almost goes out of her, and she's caught off guard.

"This is her fault. I'll fucking _kill_ her," He says in a low, voice, tears spilling over his face, "She's gonna _wish_ she had died out there--"

"Have you lost your mind?" She snaps at him, " _Let. Me. Go."_

They lock glares for a moment that seems like forever. And, sure, maybe Ellie had always been the more notorious of the two of them for having a reckless temper, but there was no denying that Dina was, and always had been, her own formidable force. 

It takes a second, but he seems to think better of this decision and finally releases her. 

Dina pushes him away.

"Go _home,_ Ethan," She tells him, scooping up the dropped clipboard from the smattering of dirt and hay at her feet; she takes a pointed step toward him, "And if you even _think_ about coming near Ellie--I will _fuck you up."_

_\--_

**_ELLIE._ **

She looks at herself in the mirror. Fastens the topmost button on her shirt. Unfastens it. Fastens it again. She tucks the tail of it into her dark denim waistband. Pulls it back out. Smooths it with twitchy, anxious hands. 

She wishes she had nicer clothes. Something that wasn't denim or flannel or canvas. What would that even look like? She wasn't sure she really knew. A suit? She didn't want to show up to dinner in a suit, even if it was at all possible to find one of those. But she wanted to look nice. She wanted to really try.

She reaches up, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear to maintain some kind of order. Pauses when she sees her hand in the reflection, with those two glaring vacancies. 

She closes her eyes.

Why is she even trying?

Why is she pretending she can ever be anything presentable, or worthy, or normal? 

She takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. Thinks about yesterday afternoon--warm and comfortable and safe on the couch with JJ on her lap. Falling asleep in the late afternoon sunlight. The way he trusted her, just like that. Accepted her. Felt safe with her. 

She hadn't earned that. Not yet. But she wanted to. God, how she wanted to.

It's for JJ, she decides. Not for herself. She can make herself new, and better, and whole--for JJ.

\--

When Dina answers the door, she looks surprised.

"Holy shit," She says, drying her hands on a towel, "You look...really nice. Now I feel underdressed."

She's wearing her work clothes, jeans and an old t-shirt, mud-stained boots, hair pulled back in a loose knot. 

Ellie shrugs, smiles.

"I think you look great," She says, "Very...rustic chic."

Dina laughs. God, it's a good sound. 

"Ellie," She says seriously, "Did you bring _flowers?"_

"I did," Ellie confesses, holding out the bundle of flowers, "Tommy said--I mean...well, they're for you."

Dina fixes her with a quizzical look.

"What," Ellie says, "Too much?"

Dina takes the flowers. Holds them for a moment.

"I--no, it's fine," She says.

"I thought JJ might like the yellow ones there," Ellie says, pointing out the flowers in question.

"You just like hearing him try to say the word _yellow,"_ Dina laughs.

"Yeah, because it's hilarious," Ellie admits, laughing with her.

"Well…" Dina says slowly, eyes downcast, a little serious, "You, uh…you ready to give this a shot?"

"Yeah," Ellie says, grinning in a way that surely makes her look like an idiot, "Let's do this."

Dina smiles, small but sincere, and motions for Ellie to follow her inside.

The dinner is awkward. She knew it would be. But Jesse's parents are unfailingly kind and make things flow more smoothly than they should have. If it was still a thing, Ellie would have said they should be sainted. There wasn't a better word for them: saints.

It makes her miss Jesse. The way everything flowed around him, the way he was able to just roll with every punch. Accepted people and situations for what they were and just kept going. He had good parents and he took their lessons to heart. She wished she had done the same.

But JJ helps. He gives Dina grief over the presence of green beans on his plate; when Dina's not looking, Ellie steals a green bean from his plate, drops it onto her own, holds a finger to her lips. He laughs conspiratorially, and they go on slowly disappearing the green beans from his plate. 

Dina smiles knowingly, rolls her eyes. 

After dinner, and a larger helping of green beans than Ellie had ever wanted, JJ drags the box of dinosaur toys into the living room floor and pulls Ellie into the floor with him by the hand. Dina watches from the couch, and she looks relaxed, optimistic, but Ellie can see the caution in her, too. 

Robin and Mary take seats next to Dina and small talk breaks out. The kind that is nothing, and yet everything. Ellie laughs with JJ and listens to the conversation and feels _like--goddamn, this is the way life is meant to be._

"So how was the farm today, Dina?" Robin asks after a moment.

"Not bad," Dina says, "The mess with New Teton has gotten worse though. We were supposed to get new plows from them--I guess they have a pretty good metal worker. But now that the trade trips have stopped, I guess that's not gonna happen."

"Maria's been down to the shop trying to recruit more patrolmen," Mary adds, her voice dark with concern.

"She's been around to ask me to patrol, too," Ellie says, watching JJ pile dinosaurs in the center of the rug.

"What did you say?" Dina asks quickly.

"I said _no,"_ Ellie meets Dina's gaze, "I said it when she asked me the first day I got back, and I told her my answer hadn't changed. It's just not in me anymore," Ellie shrugs, walks a triceratops toward the pile with soft, emphatic sound effects, much to JJ's joy.

"You don't want to patrol?" Dina asks.

"No," Ellie says offhandedly, attention still on the dinosaurs, "Just done with that. Done with going out there."

"What kind of work are you gonna do then?" Dina presses.

Ellie shrugs.

"Maria mentioned wanting me just to help train some new people. Maybe that'd be okay, but--I don't see it working for me, long term. Maybe I'll have Preston teach me how to weld or something. I don't know."

"Welding?" Dina asks, "You'd spend the rest of your life _welding?"_

"Gives me a better chance of having a _rest of my life_ , so...yeah," She answers. 

"I think that's a good idea," Mary says, "I know why Maria wants you with the patrolmen, you were good at it--but we'll all rest a little easier, knowing you're doing something safe."

"Thanks, Mary," Ellie says in an awkward mumble, "Plus, I'd like to be able to, y'know...work with my hands. I liked that, on the farm. I wanna make things."

"You might check with Darrell over at the carpentry shop," Robin adds helpfully, "Can't go wrong with carpentry."

"Yeah," Ellie agrees, "I might do that."

"Maria asked me to do patrols again, too," Dina reveals in a small, knowing voice, eyes downcast.

Robin and Mary get very still, faces paling in concern.

"You said _no,_ right?" Ellie says with some urgency, "Dina…?"

"I said _no,"_ Dina confirms for them, "But it means she must be desperate. I think she's trying to put together something...different. The way she talked...it made me think maybe she's expecting some kind of fight with New Teton."

"Well...I'm not joining any army," Ellie says with firm, quiet resolve; JJ plops heavily into her lap, smashes two dinosaurs together noisily.

A tense lull falls over the conversation at the prospect of Jackson needing an army, at the idea of conflict coming to their gates. 

After a moment, Robin speaks up again.

"Oh--Mary, we should get the camera out."

"Oh!" She stands up, "I meant to bring it out earlier--just a second."

"Robin got a Polaroid camera off a family that came through last year," Dina explains to Ellie, "They _really_ like their Polaroids."

"I...was not prepared for pictures," Ellie says with reluctance.

"You look so nice," Dina says quietly, "Kinda be a crime not to get a picture, don't you think?"

Ellie looks down at JJ, ruffles his hair. Smiles with contentment.

\--

Later in the evening, JJ falls asleep still clutching a stegosaurus, and Dina carries his limp form down the hall, to his bed. Robin and Mary announce they're going to bed, too.

"It was so nice to see you, Ellie," Mary says, and she stops to put a hand against Ellie's cheek; it's a tender, motherly kind of gesture that's unexpected but not unwelcome, "We're glad to have you back. We thought we'd lost you."

"I'm sorry, Mary--"

"Don't be sorry--just be _here._ That's all it takes," Mary says firmly, "Dina--she needs you. JJ, too."

"I promise," Ellie says firmly, "I'm not gonna make the same mistake twice."

"Good. So are we going to see you at more dinners?"

"I sure hope so," Ellie gives a small smile.

They exchange further goodbyes before Robin and Mary depart for their bedroom. Ellie stands in the empty, quiet living room, looking around at the pictures on the walls. It's a convoluted timeline of JJ's development, mostly. JJ in a puffy orange snow suit. JJ covered in what Ellie has to assume is chocolate. JJ and Dina, faces close together, smiling broadly for the camera.

Dina comes back, seems surprised to see Ellie alone.

"They went to bed," Ellie says quickly, "I was just getting ready to go."

"Already?" Dina says.

"I--well…"Ellie falters, unsure of how to take her meaning, "I just--it seemed late…"

"Well…" Dina says, and she seems unexpectedly anxious; she glances at the floor before meeting Ellie's eyes again, "Do you...wanna have a drink?" She hesitates before adding, "With me?"

"Yeah," Ellie grins, "Yeah, I'd like that."

\--

"So Tommy is just living in the garage now?" Dina asks, knees pulled up comfortably on the cushioned bench here on the back porch.

Beside her, Ellie takes a drink from her glass. It's a smooth whiskey that causes a comfortable, warm burn to bloom in her chest.

"Yeah," She says with a light shrug, "He said he preferred it that way. Less to take care of. Whatever that means."

"So now you have the whole house?" 

"I guess so," She pauses, thinking, before reaching into the front pocket of her shirt, "At least I have some art for the walls now."

Dina leans in against her shoulder to look at the pictures from her pocket. She scoffs dismissively; the top one is of her, a candid shot taken while she was saying something animatedly.

"That's...terrible art," Dina says, "You need to get your money back for that one."

"No way," Ellie says, "I like it. I'm keeping it." 

She thumbs through the rest of the pictures, and Dina stops her at a certain image. Ellie is holding the camera out, pointing it back at herself and JJ as both make their most grotesque, theatrical expressions. 

Dina laughs softly, "I like this one. This one's good art. Maybe the _best_ art."

"It's really good," Ellie agrees, "But I really like this one, too--" She flips knowingly to the next picture; a close up of Dina, turned three-quarters away from the camera, gaze averted. But the lighting is soft, the focus just right, "This one...this one is _art."_

" _Boston_ ," Dina says teasingly, "Are you trying to flatter me?"

Ellie looks up sidelong at her, grins a little. 

"Maybe," She admits, "Is it working?"

"Hm," Dina says in mock thought, "The flowers might have been a bit much. A little bit, y'know...sappy _."_

"So I'm coming on too strong?" Ellie asks, "Want me to take it down a little?"

"I didn't say _that,"_ Dina says.

She reaches over, pulls the Ellie-JJ picture from the pile. Looks at it a long time. So long that eventually, she lays her head against Ellie's shoulder. 

"You know," Ellie says quietly, "I used to think _sappy_ was bad. Thought it was really important to play it cool. But I dunno...I think we've all earned a little bit of _sappy."_

Dina leans further into her shoulder, and Ellie tilts her face toward her.

"I just really like you," Ellie says, barely a whisper, "And I don't think I know how to be cool about it anymore."

Dina meets her eyes, and there's an intensity that's palpable, that's alive and tangible and real. 

"I want it in writing," Dina says, soft and challenging all at once and Ellie smiles, leans a little closer.

"Get me a pen," She says.

Dina moves this time, bridges the gap between them, and Ellie's heart hammers hard in her throat, her breath catches and tangles up in her ribs, like it's the first time she's ever been here, the first time anyone has ever leaned in to kiss her--

A sudden noise breaks the silence of the night. Out across the yard, someone crashes into the fence.

"Ellie!" Tommy calls across the yard at her, "Ellie! You gotta--" His breath is coming in great heaves, some combination of sobbing and screaming, "Ellie, Dina--you gotta come--!"

Ellie gets up from the porch, lopes across the yard with Dina close behind. Tommy leans over the fence, as if he can barely hold himself up.

"Tommy--what's happened? What's wrong?" Ellie asks, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Those New Teton fucks," He coughs up the words in a strangled voice, " _They fuckin' killed Maria."_

\--


	6. White Noise

**_TOMMY._ **

He's never been a perfect man. Hell, he's never even been a particularly good man. He knows it, would tell it to anyone. Even back before the world burned down, he never seemed to find his footing, never seemed to know how to make things work the way they ought to work.

Not like Joel. Joel, who put his head down, did the work, raised a family. Cleaned up the pieces when that family fell apart. Kept going, doing the same thing day in and day out because he had Sarah there, counting on him.

No, Tommy had approached life differently. Slipped from one crowd to the next, following one con or scam or grift straight into the next. Maybe there were some drugs involved intermittently over the years, but it was more than that. He tried to do things the Joel way, the steady, sturdy way, but one bar fight, one bounced check, one bad luck bet and an unpaid debt would always send him spiraling back down the drain. _Normal_ was like an itch that would get under his skin, a buzz in his ears that he couldn't fix. Normal was a prison, an empty room, a ball and chain. It tied him down. And if there was one thing Tommy was really bad at, it was being tied down. 

The trouble was Tommy didn't know how to find a middle ground. If he wasn't tied down, he was free falling, and there was never anything in between. And that free fall always, _always_ ended in a hard, cold, painful landing.

But Joel was always there. Always handing over bail money, or showing up to turn the tide of a losing bar fight, or giving him a couch to sleep on, or reluctantly passing him another loan to finance another _great idea_ that was always, in reality, a fucking terrible idea.

It was kinda funny, if you thought about it, how they switched philosophies after the world went to shit. Joel was still Joel, still a steady and predictable workhorse, but he wasn't quite the same after Sarah died, wasn't the same after the Outbreak changed all the rules. There was no such thing as _honest work_ in the new world. Tommy should've thrived in that sea of ambiguous morality, but it was Joel that found his footing, and Tommy who floundered.

It only made sense that Tommy couldn't even be good at being Tommy.

It was too much for him, the way Joel operated in those years. Maybe it was because the consequences had become too high, too much, too real. A failed con or scheme had once meant a stint in county jail, at the most. Six months of free meals and card games and cable TV. Now it meant having your fucking head blown off, or a goddamn monster chewing your face off, or starving to death in the fucking wilderness somewhere. 

So the apocalypse made Joel a ruthlessly efficacious conman, swindler, and smuggler, and it forced Tommy to realize he didn't want to be any of those things anymore. He just didn't know what else there was to be in a world like this. A world on fire.

And then he found Maria.

It all made sense then, clicked together in a way it never had before. He'd never been able to see it before--the future. He saw a day at a time, at the most, but Maria expanded his vision and made anything possible. He could see it--a whole, long life, growing into an old man, sitting on a porch, looking out over a yard. He could see now why someone would be okay with doing the same things every day, in the same place. Why someone would be okay with being tied down.

It was all about who you were tied down with.

So for the first time in his life, he _built_ something. They came together and they worked and something _grew._ It was a surreal feeling, watching buildings coming up outta the ground. Watching new people come in and flourish and be happy. 

Maria made things happen. Made people feel safe. She was firm and calculating and fucking _smart._ Smarter than Tommy had ever been. And somehow they just fit together in a way that never should've been possible. He believed in her and relied on her unfailing strength. And at the end of the day, behind closed doors, he was a safe space for her, a place where she could let that strength fail, could confess her uncertainties and fall apart. 

And he just knew, on some instinct, how to put her back together. What she needed to hear, needed to know, to be able to get back up the next day and lead them a little farther into the future.

But things had changed after Joel was gone. _Everything_ had changed after Joel was gone.

Some pain just gets so big, it fills you up and you can't see much else. You get so full with grief you don't have room for even an ounce of anything more. Not love or joy or hope or even fear, because _fear_ would mean you still believed there was something left to lose.

This grief was like a cancer that had wrapped itself around his bones and refused to let him go. 

He hadn't even been able to beg her, the night she said she was leaving. Maybe he was too drunk, or maybe he just didn't know how. Or maybe he just knew she wasn't wrong, that she deserved more than he could give her, with his grief-wrapped bones.

"I love you, Maria," Was all he'd been able to say, "I do. I love you."

"I believe it," Maria had said quietly; he'd watched her through bleary, heavy eyes as she paused by the door, "I believe you love me, Tommy. I just think you love your hurt a little more."

And now.

Now she's lying here under a blood-mottled sheet. 

The room is a mess--tables and chairs knocked askew, rags and towels soaked in dark, deep blood discarded on the floor; it was the nearest place they could get her, in the moment. They tried to save her. Tommy knows it. He'd watched them. Watched them and prayed--something he hadn't done in years. Decades.

It didn't help.

And now he's just sitting here, in this chair next to her body, in this empty room, and he can't even cry.

He just presses his palms into his eyes and tries to disappear. 

There's a shuffle of footsteps, and when he looks, he sees ratty canvas sneakers. Ellie, standing there by the door, anxious and expectant and worried but still. Calm. 

"I can't…" He tells her, shaking his head, "I can't be the one to do this. I can't, Ellie."

She traces the toe of a shoe against the grain of a wood plank underfoot and he knows what she's gonna say, and he knows she's right, and the only reason he's gonna listen is because he also knows, deep down, that she's one of the few people here who will ever understand.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," She says, slow and low in that calm, sincere way of hers, "I really am. But it's gotta be you. There's no one else."

\--

It's the middle of the night, but the meeting hall is packed full. There's an agitated, ominous buzz of conversation in the air, like the rattling growl of a dog just before it bites. 

Tommy steps up onto the little raised platform at the front of the room. Ellie and Dina are down in front, watching, waiting. A hush falls over everyone. Tommy looks out over the faces there, stern and worried and panicked. This isn't his job. This is Maria's job. 

"Maria's dead," He says flatly to them all, because he doesn't know how else to say it, "It's true. She's dead."

The crowd erupts into a frenzy of angry, alarmed conversation.

"How?!" Someone calls out from the cacophony, "Tommy, what happened?"

"She went to meet with the New Teton leader," Tommy says, "Redford, they call her. Maria was trying to get the trades started again. I wasn't there, but they're telling me it's hard to know what happened exactly. A shot was fired. Fighting broke out. Maria…" He hesitates, choking on her name, "Maria ended up dead."

"Fuck those New Tetons!" Someone calls out.

"What are we gonna do, Tommy?" Someone else asks.

"I don't know yet," Tommy says, "I don't know. I need time."

"Fuck _time,"_ It's Ethan, shouldering his way to the front, face screwed up with rage, "We need to go _fuck them up._ Now!"

The crowd surges with agreement.

"Nobody wants a _war--"_ Tommy starts to say.

"It won't _be_ a war--" Ethan takes a step up onto the platform, looks out over the crowd, "We're bigger, we're better armed, we have more resources--we should just go take what they have, and be _done with them!"_

More enthusiastic agreement from the rest of the room.

"We've sat too long. Maria was trying to put together a militia--even she knew something bad was gonna come from them," Ethan goes on, "We go over and we take what's ours, show them who they're fucking with! For Maria!"

A roar of approval rattles through the crowded space.

"No!" 

Ethan's attention snaps to the left, where Ellie has climbed up onto the platform, stands there beside Tommy. 

"No, this isn't how we're gonna do things," Ellie says, to Ethan, to the crowd, "This isn't who we're gonna be."

"You don't even belong here," Ethan sneers at her, "Go back to California--"

"We gotta do something, Ellie," Someone from down in front interrupts him, "We can't just sit back after something like this."

"We won't," Ellie says, and it's clear she's thinking fast, "But we have to be smart. That's what Maria would say, isn't it? We'll put together a council. Smart people. Safe people. Effective people. We'll let them figure out the next step."

The crowd is quiet, not as enthusiastic as before, but there's a murmur of consideration.

"Who'll be on the council?" A man from the back asks.

"I don't know," Ellie admits, looking at Tommy for help.

"Uh--we could start with Martin--" He looks around to the gruff older man at the edge of the crowd, "He's head of the Patrolmen. Led a lot of the fights for the power plant. What do you say, Marty--would you be on a council?"

Marty straightens up, seems to consider it for a moment, then nods firmly. 

"This is _ridiculous,"_ Ethan says, pacing the platform to push firmly into Ellie's space, "Fuck your _council--"_

"Listen, _son--"_ Tommy says, pushing back against Ethan, "You got a reason for wantin' people to get killed so bad or are you just fuckin' stupid?"

Ethan bristles at the rebuff, but doesn't offer a counter argument--just storms off the platform and out of the room.

\--

**_DINA._ **

"A council," Dina says questioningly as she folds a tiny, JJ-sized t-shirt, "Where did you get that idea?"

Ellie shrugged, grabbing a tiny sock from the pile of clean laundry, "I don't know. I just knew I had to steer them away from...well, whatever that was. I've been there. Down that path. It's...nothing good comes from it."

She pushes through the laundry, finds the matching sock, holds them up.

"These tiny socks are blowing my mind," She says wonderingly, "Crazy."

Dina gets quiet, watches her for a moment. She's helping fold the laundry, and JJ is playing in the floor, and everything is almost like it should be. But there are pieces missing.

"Are you ever gonna tell me?" Dina asks slowly, setting aside another shirt, "About what happened in California?"

Ellie doesn't look up, just keeps folding, and for a moment Dina thinks the other woman must not have heard her.

"I don't know if I can," She says with a strange, unsettling lack of affect, "I don't think I know how to talk about that yet."

"What does that mean?" Dina asks.

"I just--can't."

"Can't, or don't want to?"

"Can it be both?"

"No," Dina says, "It can't. Because you have to try here, Ellie. You have to."

Ellie looks up at her. There's a hollowness settled behind her eyes, green like the moss on the north side of the trees, and Dina isn't sure what to make of it, isn't sure what to do with it. It's a kind of suffering she can see, a wound she knows is there, but she can't do anything to fix it. Can't bandage it or sew it up. 

She feels like she should be mad, because it's not fair for Ellie to hold back, not now. But all she really wants is to fix it. Make it better. Make it easier. 

"I'll tell you," Ellie says, quiet, like a child admitting to a wrong-doing, "I will. Can I just have...I dunno, a little more time?"

Dina looks at her lap, looks back up. Nods.

There's a knock at the door.

"I can get it," Ellie volunteers, stepping over a tower of blocks on her way to the door.

Dina pairs up a set of socks, thinking. Trying to imagine what could have happened to Ellie during that year. What could have broken her so badly.

Or maybe she'd already been broken when she left, and Dina just hadn't been able to see it. That day in the barn comes back to her, the vacant look in Ellie's eyes when she'd found her scrambling in the dirt. Had Dina missed it, the true extent of what Ellie was going through?

Could she have done something, then, to stop all of this?

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

It's Ethan's voice from the doorway, words a little heavy, syllables slipping one into the next, and a cold brick of dread hits Dina's stomach. 

She gets up from the couch in time to see Ethan push Ellie, hard. The dread knots in Dina's stomach as she sees Ellie's face--blank, empty, not unlike that day in the barn.

"Calm down, man," Ellie says, "Dina's here if you wanna talk to her, but you gotta calm down first."

"You can't tell _me_ what to do," Ethan slurs at her, pushing her again, "You don't even--you need to get the fuck out of here--"

"Ethan!" Dina snaps, "Are you drunk?! Go home--"

"No, Dina, I'm not goin' home, you're gonna talk to me--"

"No, I already did all of the talking I want to do with you," Dina insists, pointing over his shoulder to the door, "Don't make this any worse than it already is--"

"This's fuckin'...just stupid," He rails, "We were in _love._ Did she tell you that?" He says loudly to Ellie, "Did she tell you we were in love?"

"That's not really how she explained it, no," Ellie says shortly.

He steps closer to Ellie, trying to throw his full height over her, but the staggering makes it less intimidating.

"Did she tell you about it? Huh? The _fucking?_ About how good it was? Cause it was good. Better than _you--"_

"Ethan!" Dina says, feeling the rage bloom in her chest, "Get out!"

"She doesn't wanna talk to you," Ellie says evenly, "You need to leave."

"Fuck you," He says, "You're a piece of shit, you know? Left them out there all by themselves, just walked away--so why? Why is it _still you?_ How can she _still love you?_ "

Ellie doesn't say anything, just stares back at him in a way that suggests she doesn't totally disagree with him.

"Say something!" He demands of Ellie.

"Go home," Ellie says, low and calm, "You gotta go--"

All at once, he swings a fist at her; Dina's stomach lurches and she screams at him to stop. Ellie tries to get out of the way but the space is limited and she catches a glancing blow on her cheek. She staggers back, hits a table in the hall.

He grabs the front of her shirt, drags her, dazed, into the living room. Dina lunges at him but he shoves her away. Ellie manages to scramble away and get to her feet, but he's charging at her again in an instant. He shoves her, and she hits a wall. 

But she's not fighting back, Dina realizes with alarm. She's not swinging. Not taking any kind of offensive movement. She knows Ellie, she's seen Ellie fight--like a feral cat, wild and ruthless and brutally effective. But she's none of that now. He punches her, and the blow lands hard on the left side of her face this time, draws blood. Why isn't she fighting back?

_Why isn't she fighting back?_

_\--_

**_ELLIE._ **

The world is full of stars.

She blinks hard, tastes metal in her mouth, and he's drawing his fist back again. Fuck.

She knows she should fight. But it's like that part of her brain is shut off behind a vault door, and it's just not opening up. Or maybe she doesn't want to open up. Maybe she's afraid that once it's open, she won't be able to close it again. 

She doesn't want this. She's too tired for this. Too tired to fight anyone anymore, but especially not dumb, drunk assholes. She's lost enough of herself to this, to hitting things for no reason. She doesn't have anything left to give.

Just let him hit her. What does it matter. What does it really matter.

But then Dina throws herself onto his back, wraps her arms around his neck, all wild fury. But the sounds are all muted, drowned under a ringing in Ellie's ears, and it's hard to keep up.

He stumbles backward, trying to shake Dina off; he knocks her into a wall behind him and Ellie can practically see the wind get knocked out of her. 

Dina crumples to the ground and Ethan lunges back toward Ellie, grabs the collar of her shirt in a thick fist.

The ringing starts to subside and then Ellie can hear it, a sound that strikes straight to the quick of her, makes her feel as if she's just grabbed hold of a live electrical wire. 

It's JJ, just on the other side of the couch--crying, fearfully calling her name. 

And it's like she's just woken up from a deep sleep. 

He's dragging her past the kitchen counter, toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch, and her head is still swimming, but she can hear that sound, can hear her name in that tiny voice.

She flails out toward the dining table, where the remnants of dinner are still laying out; fingers slide over a chair, clatter against a plate. A spoon falls into the floor and he yells something at her, jerks her hard toward the door, but all at once--she finds exactly what she needs.

In a swift motion, she jams the fork down as hard as she can, straight through the top of his trainer.

He howls in some mixture of pain and rage and panic and releases her. She gets her feet under her and stands.

"YOU FUCKIN' STABBED ME," He's screaming from the floor, hands shaking over the fork impaled in his foot, "YOU CRAZY BITCH--"

Ellie grabs the foot and he howls. She drags him back toward the front door, flings it open, pulls him out into the darkening evening. 

He tries to kick her; she twists the fork. He yowls.

She pulls him down the steps and onto the sidewalk and grabs up a plastic baseball bat left out by JJ. 

He gets away from her hold, leans low and tries to tackle her. They barrel into the grass on the front lawn and Ellie can just make out Dina in the front doorway now.

She brings the plastic bat down on his head with a _snap._ It's not a lot but it's enough to stun him. She pushes him off, onto his back in the grass, and then she's pressing the length of the bat across his throat, leaning against both ends with her full weight. His eyes meet hers and there's finally something like fear there.

"Stay the _fuck_ away from my family," She spits out at him loudly.

He claws at the bat, at her hands, at her face, but it has no effect. She leans down close to him.

"Don't even think about coming back here," She says, quieter now, "I'm already going to hell-- I don't have shit to lose by murdering the fuck out of you. Do you fucking _understand_ me?"

He manages a tiny, tiny nod.

She pulls the bat away, stands up.

He coughs, gasps for air, but is up and stumbling away without a second look back. 

She tosses the bat into the grass.

Dina stares at her, open-mouthed, from the doorway.

\--

"Ouch," Ellie hisses, leans away from the cloth in Dina's hand. 

It's quiet here, sitting at the table in Joel's old kitchen. Ellie's kitchen now. It will take a while longer to stop thinking of everything as _Joel's._ A lot while longer, maybe.

She'd told Dina it wasn't necessary, walking her home. That she was fine. 

But here they were here.

"Don't be a baby," Dina says, "Hold still."

Ellie does as she's told this time, lets Dina daub the cut over her cheek. Her eyes watch Dina's face, trying to figure out what she's thinking. What she's feeling. It used to be easy, but Dina is different now. Or maybe Ellie is different. Maybe both. 

Either way, there's a wall between them that Ellie doesn't know how to scale. She can feel it in these moments, when Dina is keeping her expression so neutral, so unreadable and distant.

Her eyes fall on the stack of Polaroids on the table.

"Is...is JJ gonna be okay?" Ellie asks quietly.

"Yeah," Dina says, "You saw him. Asleep in Mary's lap before we even left."

"He was really scared," Ellie mumbles, " _Really_ scared."

"Yeah," Dina agrees solemnly.

" _I_ scared him," Ellie says, almost inaudible.

"No," Dina says, pulling away, "No. You protected him. Us. You."

But she sits back in her chair, fixes Ellie with a bewildered, almost frightened expression,. She seems to be trying to find some kind of words.

"But...why did you take so long to fight back, Ellie?"

Ellie doesn't answer right away. Tries to find the words for a feeling that is profoundly wordless. There's a frustration that bubbles up and she pulls at a tear in her jeans, feels her face twisting up into something she can't control, can't stop.

"When I think about California," She says, staring down into her lap, pulling at the edge of that tear a little more, "When I think about it all I hear is screaming. Just this fucking raw, inhuman screaming. I can feel the waves against my hands, feel the salt burning the place where my fingers used to fucking be. I feel her, in my hands. Fighting me. Fighting for a breath. Just _one_ fucking breath. Fucking _desperate_ for just one more breath of life. And I can feel the complete fucking emptiness inside me. The fucking _white noise_ nothingness that just drowns everything else away and it's me-- _I'm_ screaming. She can't scream, can she? Because I'm fucking drowning her. There's just screaming and white noise and splashing in the water and this voice in me that says, ' _She doesn't deserve this'._ And then another voice in me, a white noise voice that says…"

The words clot up on her tongue, because she doesn't want to say them out loud. Doesn't want to admit them. But she has to say this. Dina has to know. She has to pull back this curtain so Dina can see, so she won't have any doubts about what's really underneath Ellie's skin--what kind of monster is living here, inside her.

"It says, ' _I don't fucking care.'"_

She taps her fingers against the table top, and the silence is deep, palpable. She can't even look at Dina. 

"I don't wanna be that anymore, Dina," She says after a moment, eyes fixed on the table, "I can't. If it means letting drunk assholes kick the shit out of me, then fine. But I can't go back to the beach. To the white noise. I don't wanna go back to that place in me, Dina, but sometimes I'm so goddamn _afraid_ that maybe-- _fuck--"_

She leans forward, elbows to her knees, presses her face into her hands. Tries to stop the racking, panicked sobs but they can't be stopped now that she's saying it out loud, the fear she's been holding in all this time.

"--what if I never left that place? What if that's just who I am? What if I'm just _white noise_ now? What if I can never really come back--what if there's just nothing _good_ left in me--"

"Ellie," Dina says with soft urgency, kneeling down now in front of her, gently tugging her hands away from her face, "Ellie, Tommy told me--you _let her go."_

"But I didn't _want_ to!" Ellie says with a fractured sob, "I didn't fucking want to. I _knew,_ Dina--I knew it wasn't about her. I was thinking about Joel and I was holding her under and I wasn't thinking that I hated _her._ What _she_ did. I was thinking about how I hated _myself_ and what _I_ did to Joel. And I _still_ wanted to do it, wanted to keep holding her under. Dina…" Ellie shakes her head, "Dina, I can't do this, I'm too fucking broken for this, for you, for JJ--"

"Ellie, what stopped you? What made you let her go?"

"I don't know," Ellie cries, eyes shut tight, "I don't fucking know--"

"Ellie. Why'd you let her up?"

"Because I wanted to come back!" Ellie says at last, and it's the first time she's verbalized it, but it's the truth, "I wanted you. I wanted JJ. I wanted myself. I wanted to be able to come back from that place. From that mistake. I think I knew that if I killed her--I wouldn't be able to do that. To come back. If I killed her--I might as well have killed myself."

It gets quiet again and Ellie takes several deep breaths, tries to regain herself. Tries to feel less stupid for completely losing it like this. Tries to imagine a way that Dina could still want her in any way after all of this.

"Well…" Dina says into the silence, and she puts a hand against each side of Ellie's face, "I'm really glad you didn't do that. Because there's still good in you, Ellie. So much good. Look--"

Dina reaches into the pile of pictures on the table, pulls out the one of JJ and Ellie, holds it up for Ellie to see.

"-- _that,_ Ellie. _That's good._ I don't know if you've really come back yet, Ellie. But I know you can, if you want. If you try. And I know I'm here, I'm waiting on you, 'cause...fucking hell…"

Dina pauses, hesitates, plows ahead.

"Christ, Ellie, I'm terrified of you, I really am. I'm terrified because living without you almost fucking _killed_ me and I don't know how to protect myself against that because I am still _so fucking in love with you_."

Ellie looks a little surprised, furrows her brow in confusion, but a grin pulls at her lips.

"You are?" She asks, "Really?"

"Yes, you idiot," Dina says weakly, and then, more somberly, "Ellie, just...tell me you're not gonna leave me again. Fucking _promise_ me. Swear it, Ellie."

"Dina, I swear. Never," She hooks her fingers into the front of Dina's shirt, pulls her closer, "Please, you have to believe me. Never again."

"Mean it, Ellie. You have to really mean it."

"I do mean it. I do."

"Because I can't--it was hell--"

"I know. I'm sorry--"

"Don't leave me again."

"I won't--"

It happens somewhere between all the words, some space in between all the promises and apologies and uncertainties. It happens and it's familiar and new all at once, the way their lips meet. It's hesitant but sure, like singing a song you used to know. Some of the words aren't right, you know it, but the melody is there, the rhythm is right. The words will come back to you, once you get to the chorus. 

Ellie pulls Dina to her feet, doesn't say anything. Goes to the living room. Dina follows, watching. Ellie goes to the record player, puts on a [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/3pUoLeK4j2XHIuuqU8FECt?si=ny95teS0Tve0nSB46thDBA). 

A slow tune starts, something with piano and just a little bit of soulful mourning, and Ellie holds out a hand. 

> _"Prove to me,_
> 
> _That I'm not gonna die alone._
> 
> _Put your arm round my collar bone,_
> 
> _And open the door."_

Dina lets Ellie pull her close and it's a good feeling. It's something _good_ , to have her here, to be real and human and alive like this again. It's small and it's quiet and they're not even really dancing, just easing back into a familiar song, learning the words again.

> _"Well, my trust in you_
> 
> _Is a dog with a broken leg_
> 
> _Tendons too torn to beg_
> 
> _For you to let me back in."_

There's more work to be done. There's a world outside coming apart at the seams, a fight looming on the horizon, throwing everything into a shadow.

But Dina puts her head against Ellie's shoulder and for the first moment since she walked away, Ellie feels like maybe she's finally come home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Get Some Sleep, Dummy

_**DINA**_.

"No," Ellie says, "No, like this--" She wraps her hand around Dina's and guides the paintbrush along the paper, applying a specific kind of pressure, releasing that pressure with a quick, purposeful flourish at the end of the stroke.

The color responds to that flourish, fans out along a path in a pleasing, organic way.

"That's exactly what I did!" Dina says with hot indignation, "I did the flourish--why isn't the flourish working for _me?"_

"It just takes practice," Ellie says, "You'll get the hang of it. Besides, we're already big fans of your work--aren't we, buddy?" She asks JJ, loaded in her arms; he stops waving a small, wooden car in one hand just long enough to peek at Dina's work.

"Mom paint?" He asks Ellie, palms up to emphasize the question.

"Yep, mom paint," Ellie confirms, "She's pretty good, right? Nice sense of color."

"Mom paint!" He declares, and in his enthusiasm, the car slips from his hand, crashes across Dina's workspace.

"Shit!" Dina says softly as a cup of muddy rinse water topples over and spills across her lap. 

"Whoa-- _language,"_ Ellie says with an expression of exaggerated sternness, "He's repeating everything these days, y'know."

Dina rolls her eyes and scoffs.

JJ reaches for the car; Ellie grabs it up, checks that it's not contaminated with paint, hands it back to him. She lets him down, the better to help Dina, and he runs back to the living room, where a box of his toys happens to be waiting.

Ellie grabs a towel from a side drawer, brings it to Dina. Dina presses it into the front of her shirt, now sopping wet with gray, mottled water. Ellie takes a few paces back and leans against the kitchen counter.

"Y'know…" Ellie says, watching Dina with her arms folded over her chest, "I think JJ likes it here."

"Yeah?" Dina says distractedly, "He definitely has more room to run around over here at your house."

"Yeah, and there's even a bigger yard and everything. I was thinking...if you guys are gonna spend more time here--y'know, I could fix up one of the rooms for him."

Dina pauses in cleaning her shirt. Lets her hands fall into her lap. Fixes Ellie with an amused, questioning expression.

"I just thought--y'know, I want him to have his own space here, is all--" Ellie goes on.

"Ellie Williams…" Dina says, "Are you asking us to move in with you?"

Ellie smiles, really smiles, and Dina can see it, the way it's involuntary and irrepressible. It's radiating off of her, this sense of thorough contentment. This _happiness._

But Ellie tries to play it cool. Does that thing with her mouth that says _I don't know_ , and it's infuriating, because it's adorable and endearing and Dina's pretty sure Ellie knows it.

Ellie shrugs, looks at her shoes.

"I don't know," She says coyly, "Maybe."

Dina gets up from the table. Closes the space between them, leans against the counter just next to her.

"Huh," Dina says thoughtfully, "Weird. Cause that's what it sounded like. But maybe I was wrong. Can I ask you for some advice though, actually? I'm having this relationship problem--"

"Oh, man," Ellie says with mock seriousness, "Sounds like trouble. I'm happy to help."

"Great. See, I've been seeing this girl--"

"She sounds amazing, by the way, I can already tell. Just a feeling."

"--yeah, I mean, she's fine, I guess--"

"Um, ouch."

"--she's _amazing_ , she is. I mean, we're working on some issues. Some trust things, I guess. And it's only been a few days since we really reconciled and decided to make a go of it, but--it's going _so_ well. It's been...maybe the happiest couple of days of my life."

"I think she'd probably be stoked to hear that. So...what's the problem?"

"Well...the problem is that I don't really know what she wants. I'm pretty sure she's feeling the same way I am, but it's kind of hard to tell--"

"I think she probably just doesn't want to push too hard. Doesn't want to overwhelm you or scare you off."

"Here's the thing though--and this one is a real puzzle for me, I'm not gonna lie--she hasn't even tried to take my clothes off yet? Like, what's with that, do you think?"

"Oof," Ellie says, clearly caught off guard, and even a sidelong glance reveals a bloom of red rising in her cheeks, "Y'know, she's probably got this idea that she doesn't want you to think that...well, that _that's_ all she wants from you. Again, she's probably trying her best to just not be pushy--"

"Okay, but…listen..." Dina catches her hand, pulls her closer, draws her in until she can smell the scent of the lavender-tinged soap lingering on her flannel shirt, and something else, that scent that's simply labeled _Ellie_ in her brain--some tangle of pine and clean air and the dark, cool earth after it rains.

Ellie folds into her comfortably, holds her gaze but lets a hand fall against her hip, and even that small, innocuous touch is just enough to be absolutely _not nearly enough._

"Can you tell her," Dina asks, quietly enough that Ellie has to lean even closer to hear her, "That at some point, I'm going to need her to be pushy? I need to know what she wants. I need to know she _really_ wants it. Like, us moving in with her--"

"She wants you to move in," Ellie says firmly, "She wants you and JJ here. Wants you to bring your stuff over, like, _yesterday."_

"--well, there's also the thing I mentioned, y'know, about my clothes--"

Ellie leans in, kisses her. And it's like magic, the way it shuts down any other thought Dina might have been having, the way it makes her feel like it's the first time she's ever kissed _anyone_ before. Ellie presses in unexpectedly, backing her firmly against the counter, until all Dina's senses are occupied with nothing else, until the world is all _Ellie._ Her hands, rough against Dina's face; that lavender and pine and fresh rain filling up her head; Ellie's hair, tangled around Dina's fingers. For these moments, there's nothing but Ellie, Ellie and this clear, ringing, desperate need for _more_ of her. 

And it feels good, feels right, to have everything fit together again, the way it should. Not clouded by guilt or grief or uncertainty. She doesn't have to convince herself she wants Ellie, doesn't have to talk herself into it. There was a time, after Ellie left, when she was convinced that would never happen again. That it would never be this easy again, because she would spend the rest of her life trying to convince herself to settle, convince herself she wanted something that only made her feel lukewarm at best. She was terrified that, in a world without Ellie, _lukewarm_ was as good as it would ever get again. 

But this isn't _lukewarm_. Not at all.

"Is this _pushy_ enough?" Ellie asks in a low, heavy voice that only makes Dina feel increasingly less _lukewarm._

"It's a good start," Dina tells her with a teasing smirk; and something happens there, something in the light of the kitchen, the way it catches in Ellie's eyes and makes them flash heart-achingly _green_ and Dina reaches up, tucks a lock of auburn hair away behind Ellie's ear.

She wants to say something, but she isn't sure how to frame this feeling in words.

"What is it?" Ellie asks, searching her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, y'know…" She answers, "You're breakin' my heart."

Ellie huffs, rolls her eyes, awkward and self-deprecating and unable to accept the compliment. 

"Not tryin' to break your heart," Ellie mumbles, eyes downcast, "Kinda goin' for the opposite of that. Trying to make you as happy as you make me."

"You are," Dina says, twining her fingers into Ellie's, "I just mean...do you ever feel like--you can be so overwhelmed by happiness, by something good or surreal or beautiful, that it actually makes you...kinda sad? Like...maybe just because you know, deep down, that it can't last forever."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dina," Ellie says firmly, seriously, "I swear--"

"It's not that--well, maybe it's a little bit of that. But it's more just...I don't know, it's stupid--"

"It's not," Ellie says, "Just tell me what you're thinking."

"No matter what we do, Ellie, we only get so much of _this._ If everything goes right, every day, from now until we die--we still only get a certain amount. And we both know--it's more likely that things will go wrong, in a world like this. I dunno, sometimes it's just...heavy to think about."

"Yeah, it sounds like it," Ellie agrees, and she pauses, seems to be thinking, until she shrugs, "There's a lot out there we can't control. Guess we just have to take one day at a time and whatever comes our way--we'll handle it when it gets here."

"One day at a time," Dina agrees, smiles, "So how many more days are we gonna wait before we fix the whole situation with, y'know, the clothes, and not wearing them--"

Ellie laughs.

"Like, should I draw up a calendar," Dina goes on teasing her, "Maybe you can pencil me in? Mondays are really good for me--"

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ellie says.

"Oh, I want to hear _all_ your secrets, so _yes--"_

"There hasn't been a day I _haven't_ wanted to take your clothes off."

"Oh, what about that day you got back? When you were basically half-dead?"

"When you came over to help bandage me up? I was _half-dead,_ not _whole dead_ , so yeah."

"I--"

They're interrupted by the sound of a knock at the kitchen door. They both look just in time to see Tommy through the glass; he looks pointedly away, apparently concerned that he'd accidentally observed something more salacious than it really was.

Ellie sighs and pulls away from her, goes to the door.

"Hey, Tommy," Ellie says as she opens up the door.

Tommy steps in, looking a little anxious.

"I didn't mean to, er, interrupt or--"

"You didn't interrupt anything, we were just talking--" Dina says, even though her rate might have told a different story.

"Dina and JJ are moving in," Ellie says, and it's with such a child-like excitement and pride, as if she can't hold it back, that it makes Dina want to kiss her again.

"Really?" Tommy says, turning his gaze on Dina, "No shit?"

"I mean…" Dina looks at Ellie again, exchanges an affirming glance with her, "Yeah, I think so."

"That's goddamn great," He says with a deep sincerity, "So we having a weddin' or…?"

Another exchange of glances, this time of surprise and uncertainty.

"Oh, I don't--"

"We haven't--"

"It's not--"

"Whoa," Tommy says, "Hey, it's alright. I know how some of the younger people feel about weddings and being married and all that. Married, not married--don't take a _ceremony_ to prove what you feel. Y'all do whatever's right for you. I'm just happy for you, I really am."

"Thanks, Tommy," Dina says, and it's true that she'd had bitter feelings toward him for a long time, feelings that weren't totally resolved--but this exchange definitely helped.

"Well, I just come down to talk to y'all a minute. See, Martin and I put our heads together and we came up with a pretty good council, I think. Six people, from all different areas of Jackson--head of the power plant, head of agriculture, couple of shop owners. Anyone who can help give us a full picture for when we're making decisions. They had their first real meeting last night, came to their first confirmed motion."

"That's great," Ellie says, "We probably should have done this a while ago. Help take some of the pressure off Maria."

"Yeah, maybe," Tommy says, "But Ellie, their motion--their first official decision is askin' you and me to be on the council."

Ellie immediately turns her gaze on Dina, looking for her reaction, but Dina isn't even sure how to feel.

"Me?" Ellie asks, "Why me?"

"They liked how you handled the meeting the other night. Liked what you had to say," Tommy says with a shrug, "And you know how important Joel was to us, to Jackson. How much people trusted him. I'm guessin' it might make people feel better, having his daughter involved in something like this."

Fuck.

Dina can see the way Ellie's face pales, can almost hear her thoughts getting tangled up. It's not Tommy's fault, but it's a heavy thing to put on Ellie.

"I'm...I'm not Joel," Ellie says quietly, "I wish I was. But I'm not."

"Ellie…" Tommy says with a sigh, "Nobody's expecting you to be Joel. But I think you're selling yourself short, kid. I think you picked up more of him than you realize. And I know _I'll_ sleep better, having you at that table."

"Tommy, there are people who are smarter than me, better suited--"

"Council didn't ask them," Tommy says shortly, "They asked _you_."

A silence falls over the kitchen and Tommy shifts anxiously.

"Just think about it, Ellie," He says, "They're meeting again tomorrow night, at Maria's house. I hope you'll be there, but--I ain't gonna hold it against you if you're not."

He nods at them both and goes back out the kitchen door. 

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

It's four in the morning, and Ellie still can't sleep. Hasn't slept for a minute. 

She could blame it on Dina, because Dina certainly bears some amount of the blame. But Dina's been asleep for hours now, curled up contentedly on the other side of the bed. 

_Not sleeping_ isn't all that new for Ellie. She decides to follow the same routines--she gets up and tours the house, checking locks, all the doors and and all the windows. Tonight she adds a new stop--she leans into the bedroom down the hall and looks in on JJ, asleep in his bed. In his room. Because they were staying now. They were really staying. 

When she eases back into the bed, Dina has kicked the sheets to the end of the bed, and it's good to know that some things never change. 

"Ellie?" Dina asks in a small, bleary voice.

"Yeah," Ellie says quietly, "I'm here."

"You have to stop stealing the blankets--" Dina says.

"What?" Ellie scoffs, "I didn't--you kicked them off--!"

"It's _freezing_ ," Dina complains, "Why are you so far away?"

Ellie sighs, gathers up the blankets and slips in closer to Dina, curving her body around Dina's back. And nights are usually hard for Ellie, because it feels like her brain just doesn't handle silence well, just tries to eat itself alive with racing thoughts and fears and dreads, but in the dark here next to Dina--it's easier.

"Why aren't you sleeping…" Dina asks, and all the sounds roll together groggily, "You need to sleep."

"I dunno," Ellie says, "Just thinking."

Dina stirs, rolls over onto her back. And, goddamn, if she isn't the best kind of dream Ellie could ask for, all comfortable and relaxed and unwound like this. 

And for a second she understands what Dina meant earlier, because it's too good, too perfect, and she feels a sudden nervousness, an anxiousness that it must mean something bad is going to happen.

"Thinking?" Dina asks, "About what?"

"It's not important," Ellie promises her, "Get some sleep."

"You can't tell me what to do, Williams," She says, "Talk to me."

Ellie hesitates. Falters. And then:

"Do you wanna get married?"

Dina's mouth opens, but no words come out. She gives a surprised laugh.

"I...I dunno. I've always thought it was kind of silly. What's the point in talking about _forevers,_ when that could mean fifty years--or tomorrow?"

"I know…" Ellie says slowly, thoughtfully, lays her hand over Dina's arm, "And I don't believe there's any special magic in stupid traditions, rings and parties and holy books."

"Yeah," Dina agrees, "We've basically been married for a long time already. You held my hand when JJ was born. That's a way more intense experience than standing at some altar."

"Yeah, that was...fuckin' intense. Like...I've seen scary shit but that? Woof."

"Uh, and it was also beautiful--" Dina prompts her.

"Oh, yeah, beautiful--sure--"

"But mostly a nightmare, yeah," Dina concedes, and they laugh quietly.

"I guess I've just been thinking about it since Tommy said it, and--I dunno. I don't know why it's different now, when it didn't matter before, but...I just want you to be my _wife._ Is that stupid? It's kind of stupid, right…?"

"Oh my god," Dina says, "Ellie--you're becoming a total sap in your old age, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" Ellie laughs, "I'm not a sap--"

"You _are_ ," Dina says, "You're going soft. You're a huge sap, and--I fucking love it."

Dina moves to her side to better face Ellie, and all those dark waves fall to one side, spill over the pillow there.

"You know that means you'd be _my_ wife, too, right?" Dina asks.

"I mean--yeah."

"You wanna be my wife?"

Ellie smiles stupidly at the question, because she can't help it.

"I think I do," She says, "Yeah."

"Good," Dina says, "Then I guess we're married."

"Just like that?" Ellie laughs.

"Who's gonna stop us?" 

"You have a point."

Ellie gets quiet.

"There's more," Dina says, "What is it?"

"This council thing," Ellie says, "What do you think I should do?"

"Well…" Dina sighs, lies back against the pillow just next to Ellie, "I did just marry you, so I have to admit--I have a lot of faith in your decision-making."

"You're my wife," Ellie says, "You have to say that."

"Oh--shit, is that what I signed on for with this? I might be having second thoughts--"

"Can't back out now, pal," Ellie says, "You're stuck with me."

"Thank god for that," Dina sighs, "Ellie, I don't love the idea, only because it seems like something that could potentially put you in danger. Look what happened to Maria. But Tommy's not wrong. Joel left a hole here, and you might be the only person who can fill it."

"I just don't wanna fuck things up," Ellie says softly, "I want to protect Jackson, because it's the same as protecting you and JJ--it's our home. But what if I just make things worse? Just let people down? Let _you_ down?"

"Well...I always have the divorce option, I guess--"

" _Dammit,_ Dina--"

"I'm kidding!" Dina says, interrupting Ellie's attempt to move away by pulling her closer.

"I'm _kidding._ Ellie...I know you're worried. But I think Joel would be so proud of you, no matter what you decide to do. _I'm_ proud of you, no matter what. You're the smartest person I know--I mean, do you think I'd marry a dummy?"

Ellie rolls her eyes.

"Exactly. So trust yourself. Trust your gut. Do what feels right. And whatever comes next...we'll handle it when it gets here. Right?"

"Right," Ellie says in agreement.

"Good," Dina yawns, throws an arm over Ellie's middle, relaxes into the mattress next to her, "Now please get some sleep, dummy."

Ellie laughs to herself. 

_Trust her gut._ She could do that. She'd been doing that her whole life, with varying degrees of success.

She couldn't be Joel. But she could be Ellie. Could do what she thought needed to be done to protect her family. Her wife, her son. And maybe that was enough.

"I mean it, Ellie," Dina huffed groggily at her side, already half-asleep, "Stop thinking and go to sleep. 'M your wife now, you have to listen to me."

Ellie rolled her eyes in the dark, gave a deep sigh.

This would all make sense in the morning.  
  
  



	8. Don't You Worry None, Little Darlin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Significant references to a previous fic:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193242/chapters/61057966

_**ELLIE.** _

"Two more patrolmen failed to report in this morning," Martin says, seated across the table from her, "Makes three in as many days. Maybe they're held up somewhere--"

"Or maybe it's more retribution from New Teton," Tommy says from the left side of her, "Pickin' our people off."

"It's been two weeks since Maria was killed," Marjorie says from down the table, "We have  _ got  _ to do something."

Martin leans back in his chair, raps his knuckles against the table. He's a sturdy guy with dark, close cropped hair, receding a little, and a deep scar across his left cheek. She'd heard that he had been in the military once, before the Outbreak--a  _ marine.  _ Ellie only had a vague understanding of what that meant. 

It was surreal, being at a table with these people. With the grown ups. It seemed like just yesterday that she was in training with Martin, balking at his authority, miming his words to a madly snickering Dina whenever his back was turned. 

Once, they had snuck into his tent during a group patrol and stolen his boots. They'd returned them, but first they'd spray painted them a violent shade of pink. It was a stupid thing to do and looking back, Ellie could admit that more than anything, it was an excuse to spend time with Dina, to make her laugh, to have whispered conversations with her. Martin and his boots had just been a casualty. 

But now she was here, and he was looking up at her with a questioning gaze.

"What do  _ you  _ think, Ellie?" He asks.

She takes a deep breath, glances around the table, at all the eyes on her.

"Um," She says hesitantly, "I mean--we can't go in blind. We don't know enough about them. We need to know what we're fighting before we do anything we can't take back."

Martin raps his knuckles again, thinking. 

"We need a scouting party," He says, "Someone has to go out there."

\--

"No," Dina says, "Absolutely not, Ellie. No."

"Dina--"

"No, to all of it. We're doing  _ none  _ of it."

Dina continues snapping toys up from the floor in an agitated flurry. Ellie pushes a hand through her hair and sighs.

"We have a decision to make, Dina," Ellie says exasperatedly, "And we need more information before we make it."

"So someone else can go," Dina says, "Send patrolmen. They're signed up for that sort of thing. Not you."

"Tommy and I are going so we can report straight back to the council. See it with our own eyes."

" _ Ellie--" _

"Dina, it's just reconnaissance. That's all. We're not looking for a fight. We just wanna put eyes on them, see how big the place is, get a general idea of--"

"And what happens when you're caught? What happens when they shoot you? Kidnap you? What if you run into infected on the way?"

Ellie looks at her feet.

"You  _ promised _ ," Dina says from across the living room, and even though her tone is even and firm, there's a deep, unyielding terror behind her eyes, "You said you wouldn't leave, Ellie."

"I'm not leaving, Dina. It's just two days. There and back."

"Yeah, and then day three rolls around and I'm just--here. Wondering if you're dead, or dying, or being tortured--"

"Dina--do you trust me?" Ellie asks.

"I trust  _ you-- _ it's everything else I don't trust."

"Two more patrolmen went missing yesterday," Ellie tells her, "Puts us up to three now. Don't know it's the New Tetons, but…it could be."

Dina turns away from her, hands at her face.

"I gotta do this," Ellie says gently, "Most of the council--they herd sheep and make granola and do...normal people stuff, Dina. But this is something I can do. Something I'm good for."

"You're good  _ here _ ," Dina says, turning back to her, and there's a tremble at her lips, a fractured look in her face that takes Ellie by surprise, "You belong here, with us.  _ Please _ , Ellie."

If Ellie knows one thing, it's that Dina doesn't break. Ever. Dina is even and steady and stalwart, and she doesn't falter. 

But she's breaking now, and for a second Ellie can see a fraction of what it must have been like in her absence, the hell she'd put Dina through. 

It wasn't like she didn't know before, that she'd hurt Dina. But it was maybe only just fully dawning on her, that she hadn't hurt her--she'd broken her. 

Ellie crossed the room, pulled Dina in against her. Dina leans in heavily, hands wrapping into the fabric of Ellie's shirt with desperation.

"I'm sorry," Ellie says, "You're right. If you don't want me to go, if it's too much...I just won't go."

Dina doesn't answer right away, and Ellie begins trying to figure out how to explain this to Tommy, that she's not going, in a way that won't make him lose his shit.

"You better  _ fucking  _ come back," Dina says in weak resignation, voice muffled against Ellie's shirt, "I mean it, Ellie."

"I swear," Ellie assures her, "Hell or high water."

"What?" Dina asks, pulling away.

"Something Joel used to say," Ellie says with a shrug, and she puts on a light imitation of Joel's Texan drawl, "Like,  _ we're gonna get there, come hell or high water." _

"Please stop," Dina says plaintively, "You can't do adorable accents and then just  _ leave." _

"Oh, does this do something for ya?" Ellie goes on teasingly in a more pronounced accent, "'Cause I can do this all  _ day--" _

" _ Ellie _ \--I mean it," Dina insists, finally regaining herself, "Don't do anything stupid. Just come right back."

" _ You got it, little lady, _ " Ellie drawls in a truly bad southern twang, " _ Don't you worry none, lil' darlin', ya hear?" _

"God, you are such an idiot," Dina laughs, "I fucking love you."

Ellie laughs lightly.

"I fucking love you, too."

\--

It made her uneasy, being back in a saddle, being out in the wild again. It felt like a million years ago that she'd been stumbling half-dead along the coast, trying to find her way home. It felt like a million years, and also yesterday. Too far away and too close.

She'd heard Dina pull Tommy aside. Made him promise to look after Ellie. She thought about intervening, because it wasn't fair to put that on Tommy--but if it helped ease Dina's mind in any way, then maybe it was okay.

The ride had been mostly quiet. They were trying to take the back country so as not to be seen on the road, but that meant dense, treacherous landscapes, with the threat of local wildlife added into the mix. Tommy kept talking about bears _ ,  _ and Ellie wasn't even sure what she would do if she saw a damn  _ bear.  _ It seemed ironic, somehow, that she was more experienced and prepared for decaying fungal monsters than, say, a  _ bear. _

Ben Porter and his wife, Annalise, had volunteered readily for the compact mission, much to Ellie's surprise. It was true that Ben had become someone much different since they were teenagers, someone stronger, sharper, more competent. But Ellie had also once beaten him to within an inch of his life, and inadvertently gotten his older sister killed.

They had settled things in the aftermath, come to amicable terms--it just didn't seem to be in Ben's nature to hold a grudge. But still, of anyone, it seemed like Ben had the least reason to spend an extended amount of time in her company.

"I heard you and Dina moved back in together," Ben commented late in the afternoon after drawing his horse up to walk alongside hers, "I'm really happy for you guys."

"Yeah," Ellie says lightly, "We, uh--we actually kinda got married?"

"What?" Ben gives a laugh, "I didn't hear anything--"

"It was...kind of a private ceremony," Ellie explains with a small smile.

"Wow," Ben looks out over the rolling plain of grass stretching out ahead of them, clear to the horizon; he's a little heavier than he had been once and his hair is sheared short, but he's still young, still handsome, still carries an endearing kind of boyish innocence, "I just wanna say...I called it."

Ellie laughs.

"I did," He repeats it emphatically, "I always knew you two were dumb in love. Just the way you looked at each other, y'know? Even as kids. I'm glad you guys found your way back to each other. Everyone deserves that--finding their way back."

Ellie nods appreciatively, even if she's not sure she agrees, even if some small, dark, private part of her is still resisting the idea that she, herself, deserved it. It's the part that still insists, during her quiet, sleepless moments, that she should have died on that dark beach. Or in the floor, next to Joel. 

"I'm sorry I missed  _ your  _ wedding, by the way," She says, "Annalise seems really nice."

"She is," Ben affirms with a grin, "Tough. Smart. Puts up with me. Can't ask for much more from a person."

He gives a small laugh, and the light catches against a long, horizontal scar along his cheek, fainter than it had been once, but still a permanent feature on the landscape of his face. 

She looks down at her hands, gripping the reins. At the knuckles of her fingers. 

These were the same hands that held JJ just moments after he was born. Hands that painted and sketched. Hands that fixed toys and squeaky stairs and leaking faucets. Hands that loved Dina.

And yet they'd also done that to Ben. Scarred his face. A face his wife loved--but one she had never seen without that scar. His wife didn't know a Ben who hadn't been hurt by Ellie.

These hands had done gentle, helpful, ordinary things. And they'd also held a woman under a swelling tide of salty, black water. 

A woman fighting, in that moment, only to protect a boy in a boat. To protect him from her. From Ellie. From Ellie's hands.

Fuck.

"Hey--look," Tommy's voice broke through the fog of her thoughts. He was riding a little ways ahead, so Ellie urged her horse forward to catch up.

The plain of grass sloped down into a broad bowl of a valley, and in the center was a town. Might have called it a village, even, back in the old days. One of those quaint little places that would always be a brief stop, but never a destination. 

"Looks smaller than Jackson," Ellie says, "But why the hell does it have  _ FEDRA  _ gates? The big ones, too. What would FEDRA want with a town outside of a designated QZ?"

"Yeah…" Tommy draws the word out, looking, thinking, "Something ain't quite right."

He pulls out a pair of binoculars, starts to scan the valley.

"That hospital…" He says, passing the binoculars to Ellie, "They've got it barricaded for a few blocks around there. They're definitely protecting that."

Ellie looks through the binoculars, sees that he's right. She looks for sentries, patrols, tries to get a sense of their weaponry. There are a few guys on top of the main gate; they've got some kind of automatic rifles.

"Doesn't look like they're actual FEDRA holdouts," Ellie says, "Some heavy guns but their protective gear is just cobbled together."

"Let's go around," Tommy says, "Keep a distance, go round the outside of the valley. We'll stay in the treeline here, just get a look at it from all sides before we get any closer."

Ellie nods and starts to lead her horse into the trees. 

That's when a shot rings out.

It all happens so fast: a shot, a pain in her leg, her horse rearing wildly in agony. 

She rolls over in the thick, damp grass, thrown from the saddle, trying to get her breath back. The others are speeding for the cover of the trees, scrambling to get out of the sniper's scope. Tommy screams her name, screams for her to get up.

There's a heat in her lower leg that doesn't bode well, but she gets her feet underneath her and makes a dash for the trees, as quickly as she can manage. 

But in an instant, the ground gives way under her next step. The world rushes up at her and she's falling, falling down,  _ into  _ the ground and she scrambles for a hold, barely manages to catch the edge of the square, man-made hole.

"Jesus  _ fuck--" _ She calls out as she realizes that the bottom of this pit is being occupied by a group of jagged, upturned wooden spears--and a fucking  _ stalker. _

It scrambles around the bottom of the pit, clawing up at her, teeth snapping.

She uses every ounce of strength she has to pull herself over the edge enough to see the others, off their horses and crouched in the trees--but there isn't enough purchase for her feet against the smooth sides of the pit to get her any further toward freedom.

Tommy sees her struggling and starts to run out--but it's Ben who clears the trees first. 

Tommy and Annalise are returning fire on someone close by in the trees as Ben races to the edge of the hole, drops down and grabs Ellie's hands firmly.

"I've got you!" He says, pulling hard, "Hold on--"

And then another shot cracks through the air.

A sickening sound of impact, a fine spray of mist, and Ben collapses, dead.

Ellie instantly falls from his grip and crashes heavily to the bottom of the pit, knocking the back of her skull hard against the packed dirt. She doesn't even have time to process what's happening as the stalker is on her, boney fists flailing, grabbing, tearing; yellow teeth snapping, searching for the softest, most vulnerable stretches of flesh.

She heaves against it but there's barely any room to move and her leg is aching, getting weaker, not to mention her head--her head is swimming and there's a black tunnel trying to close over her vision.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Fuckfuckfuckfuck--

It can't end like this. 

She promised Dina.

Fuck.

Some kind of strength comes from somewhere, and she grabs hold of the ragged remnants of a shirt still clinging to the murderous tangle of moss and fungi assailing her. She wrestles with it, doing everything she can to stay away from those fucking teeth; she gets to her feet, pushes it toward one of those spears buried in the bottom of the pit.

She gives a final, momentous heave and brings the plated, fungi-riddled head of the thing down onto one of those spears, pushes with everything she has until the spear bursts through the other side of its skull and it's fully impaled and no longer moving, save for a limp twitching.

Then she stumbles back, steps into a puddle of her own blood, gathering round her feet.

She tries not to pass out.

She really tries.

But she passes out anyway.


	9. Subject from Pit Twelve

_**ELLIE**_.

Joel is lying on the floor.

She can see straight into his eyes.

He's trying to say something. 

But his swollen, bloodied mouth won't work so he's trying to say it with his eyes. 

She's begging him to get up. 

Get up, Joel.

You always get up, Joel.

Get up one more time.

Please, Joel.

_Please._

But he's trying to tell her with his eyes.

Trying to tell her he's given up.

Trying to tell her, one more time,

_It's gonna be okay, baby girl._

Trying to comfort her.

Even as he fucking died.

\--

Consciousness hits her like a truck and her head screams with pain. For a second she's still there, still screaming against the wooden floor just a few feet from his mangled, broken body. 

"I'll...I'll fuckin' kill you…" She mumbles in a dry, disoriented voice, "Abby...fuckin' Abby…stop…please, stop..."

But slowly, she's able to open her eyes, squinting against the glare of harsh light, and she realizes she's _not_ there, with his body. Not now. Not anymore. 

That's a lie, though. Because that room where he died, it goes everywhere with her. Stays somewhere in the back of her head, just at the periphery of her thoughts. Because even once you move on, some things never really go away. Like scars.

Like Ben's scar.

Oh, fuck, _Ben._

She tries to sit up and everything screams in pain. Even more unsettling--there's a ring of cool metal clasped around one of her wrists. 

"Dina," She mumbles, disoriented, "No... _fuck--_ no, no, no…" She pulls against the handcuff and it clangs noisily against the pipe to which she's been latched, "FUCK."

"Hey," A voice hisses at her from somewhere nearby, "Hey, are you fucking alive over there?"

She lifts her head, which fucking _hurts_ to do, and searches for the source of the sound, but god, there's so much pain she can't even see straight, can't think. All at once she has to turn her head, straining against the handcuff, and vomit into the floor. It's all acrid bile and maybe blood and it burns like a fucking bitch.

"God-- _gross,_ " The voice comments unhelpfully, "Please just don't fucking die."

She draws the sleeve of her free hand over her mouth and she's finally able to start processing her surroundings.

It's a small, narrow room with empty, sterile walls. There's a fluorescent light overhead, buzzing loudly with the effort of staying lit. The floor is cool and smooth, with several drains spaced out over it. She's seen this flavor of interior before. It's hard to know for sure, but it feels like a hospital. Maybe some kind of janitor's closet or something. Some space that needs drains in the floor. 

Probably for water, she tells herself. Drains to get rid of water. 

But she's well aware that it could just easily be for something much worse.

"Do you need more vomit time or can we possibly move this along--someone's gonna be here any minute--"

Ellie finally finds the owner of the voice; it's a girl, and she's handcuffed to the wall, too. She's younger than Ellie by several years, but Ellie's head is swimming too hard to try to take any guesses. 

"Where the fuck am I…?" She mumbles hoarsely.

"You don't even know?" The girl scoffs, "Welcome to New fuckin' Teton."

" _Fuck._ Well, why am I fucking handcuffed to the wall?"

"Probably because you were like a wild goddamn animal," The girl says, "Outta your fucking mind, screaming and trying to fight them when they brought you in. They don't like fighters. Fighters get locked up in here."

"That mean _you're_ a fighter?" Ellie asks.

"Fuck, yeah," She says, "And we have to get the fuck out of here."

"Yeah...yeah, I'm gonna get out of here," Ellie says, testing the handcuffs again, "I've got people waiting on me…"

"You have to take me with you," She says, "Please don't leave me behind, _please--"_

A door opens suddenly, and a man in a dingy lab coat enters. He looks down at Ellie, clicks a tape recorder in his hand.

"Subject from Pit Twelve is awake," He says into the recorder, "Unusual resistance to sedatives."

He kneels down in front of her, reaches out to touch her.

"Get the _fuck_ away from me--"

"Signs of concussion," He continues, unfazed, "Leg wound treated. Bullet was through and through, prognosis is good. No apparent contamination--subject had terminated infected agent before transmission could occur. Will continue observation and administer additional round of sedation until testing can be arranged."

He moves away from Ellie, approaches the girl. She immediately tenses up, but her gaze never leaves his face, intense and defiant and unyielding. She's fair, with a tangle of strawberry blonde hair that needs a wash; her clothes are unkempt and there aren't any laces in either of her trainers. But she's staring up at him like a feral cat about to pounce. 

He kneels in front of her and continues to speak into the recorder. Slowly, Ellie reaches for the nearest drain in the floor. There's a round, metal grate covering and when her fingers find it, she feels a rush of relief because it's not bolted in. 

He's still talking into the recorder when Ellie begins retching loudly again, coughing and sputtering over her shoulder. 

He stands up, crosses the room again to assess her state.

And that's when she wraps the fingers of her free hand into the slots of that thick, metal grate cover, fits it over her hand like a set of brass knuckles, and hits him as hard as she can, straight in the center of his face.

He falls, surprised and bewildered and bleeding profusely; Ellie strikes him again in quick succession but he shuffles out of her reach and she can't catch hold of him, can't get to his pockets where there's surely a key--

That's when the girl scrambles forward, because he's inadvertently crawled straight into her reach; she wraps a shoelace around his neck, like a garrote, and pulls tight. 

Oh. So that's where the shoelaces went.

"The key--" Ellie says, "You gotta get the key from his pocket!"

"My hands are a little fucking full!" She counters as he struggles against the shoelace garrote, face beginning to swell and go purple.

He reaches into his own pockets, frantic, draws out a small, silver handcuff key in trembling hands. 

"Let him go!" Ellie says, "He's got the key!" 

"No fucking way, this asshole has done his last motherfucking assessment with that...fucking _stupid_ tape recorder--"

Ellie stretches as far as she possibly can, until she can feel her shoulder popping against the restraint of the cuff, and she grabs the key from his hand.

She undoes the handcuff in a frenzy and dives over the girl, pulls her hands away from the man's throat.

"What the _fuck--"_ The girl complains as he gulps down desperate drinks of air, "You _have_ to kill him--we'll never get out of here if he fucking warns everybody--"

Ellie rubs her wrist where the handcuff has cut a deep gouge. The grate is still wrapped in her fingers.

He tries to say something, but she draws back a grated fist and hits him one more time. He falls, limp, into the floor.

"There," Ellie says, and she kneels into the floor to undo the girl's handcuffs. "He's not going anywhere. What's your name?"

"Evie," She says, "Who are you?"

"I'm Ellie, from Jackson."

"Well...do you know what the fuck you're doing, Ellie from Jackson?"

"Yeah…" Ellie says, "Yeah...I'm gonna get us out of here."

\--

It's a tense, desperate journey, out of the storeroom and through the dim halls of the aged hospital, but there aren't very many people to encounter, and they find a set of stairs in short order.

The girl sticks close to Ellie, close enough to be her shadow. She's a picture of teenage bravado and yet occasionally she whispers-- _wait, don't leave me._

There are people on the ground floor, milling about. It almost looks like a normal hospital, with several people in lab coats going room to room, as if checking on patients. 

When Ellie sees them, she pulls Evie down hard behind a counter, holds a finger over her lips.

This is too fucking weird for Ellie to try to comprehend right now--she just has to focus on getting back to Dina. 

And, apparently, protecting Evie. 

The trouble is that the lab coat fucker hadn't been lying--her head was hurting like a bitch, probably from a concussion, and she was pretty sure she had broken some of her fingers using that grate. She was a fucking mess--how was she ever going to get herself _and_ another person out of this?

But Ellie manages to navigate away from the people, back toward a darker, less populated area of the hospital. They find a back door and tumble out into glaring sunlight. 

Ellie stumbles down to a knee as the world lurches around her.

"Hey--hey, we can't stop--" Evie tells her, and she rushes back to grab Ellie's arm and pull her to her feet, "C'mon, we gotta go--"

Ellie finds a breath, somehow, and manages to move her legs.

\--

They move up out of the winding village streets and Evie leads her to a back portion of wall, where there's a fractured panel of sheet metal they're able to slip through.

And then they're back in the cover of the trees, and Ellie points out the direction in which they need to be traveling. Evie keeps tugging her along, but Ellie knows just how long this walk will be. Knows how far they have to go.

And she just doesn't think she can do it. 

"Jesus," Evie mutters as Ellie stops and leans against a tree for what feels like the hundredth time, "We gotta keep going, they could be behind us _right now."_

But Ellie isn't sure she can move anymore. She sinks to her knees.

"C'mon," Evie kneels down in front of Ellie, "You said you had people. We gotta get to them. Tell me about them."

"Uh…" Ellie says, disoriented and exhausted, "My wife...Dina," She says, and then, "God...she's gonna fucking kill me…"

"She sounds, y'know...nice," Evie says, pulling on Ellie's hand, and before Ellie knows it, they're walking again.

"Who else?" Evie says.

"My son. JJ. He likes dinosaurs. Like, fucking loves 'em."

"Dinosaurs, got it."

"And Joel," Ellie says absently, "I have to get back for Joel…"

"Who's Joel?"

"My dad," Ellie mumbles, "He's my dad--he's...he's dead though. God, my fucking head hurts…"

"Just c'mon, Ellie from Jackson," Evie says, "We just have to keep going."

\--

They walk for what feels like forever. More than forever. An eternity, and then some. But Ellie knows they can't be more than half way there and she's out of strength. She's out. 

And that's when they hear a scuffling in the trees, a low, breathy sort of sound that Ellie's never heard before, and yet she knows exactly what it is as soon as she hears it.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me…" She mutters to herself as a large, shaggy mountain of brown fur shoulders its way out of the underbrush, nose stuck to the ground.

It lifts its huge head and its small, black eyes find them. They're both frozen dead in their tracks. Ellie grabs Evie's arm and slowly pulls her back, back behind her, for all the good that will do.

A fucking _bear._ Everything she had been through, and it was going to be a _bear_ that did her in. She had to admit--she had not seen it coming.

It takes a heavy step forward and unleashes a putrid, ear-splitting roar. 

But as soon as the sound subsides, there's something else, some other sound-- _hooves._

A shot is fired and the bear recoils, stricken; Ellie looks up to find the source of the shot.

And there's Dina, riding hard toward them, rifle leveled and firing another shot.

Tommy and several other patrolmen are just behind her.

The bear gives a plaintive sort of snuffle, and seems to decide retreating is his best option. He lumbers back into the trees and away from all the horses and guns.

Dina drops down from her horse and runs to Ellie, who has already collapsed to her knees in some mixture of relief and pain and exhaustion. 

"Goddammit, Ellie--" Dina says, pressing her hands to Ellie's face, checking for life, making sure she's real, maybe both, "--are you _okay?"_

"Dina--holy shit. You're amazing," Ellie says, voice shaking with giddy relief and genuine awe, "Will you marry me?" 

"Already did that," Dina says, "Remember?"

"Fucking _good_ ," Ellie mutters, "Can we go home now?" 


	10. Buttons and Bears

_**DINA**_.

"Ellie-- _Ellie, I can help--"_

"No, I can do it, it just--fuck--"

Dina steps toward her but Ellie turns away, continues trying to button her shirt with one hand--because the other hand is attached to an arm with a dislocated shoulder, and is wrapped up in a sling. 

"You're so _stubborn,"_ Dina tells her with frustration, "Honestly, I'm kind of wishing I had let the bear eat you."

"Well, I bet the bear would have been pretty terrible at buttoning shirts, too--"

"Sure, maybe, but at least he would let me help!"

"I know I can do it, I just-- _goddammit_."

"Come _here--"_

Dina finally manages to get Ellie to turn toward her. Ellie huffs with indignation but allows Dina to button the shirt for her. Dina glances up into her face, takes in the distant expression there, the furrow of her brow.

"Something on your mind?" Dina asks.

"Yeah," Ellie says, " _I fucking hate buttons_ is at the top of the list."

"Okay, and what's _second_ on the list?"

" _Would my wife really leave me for a bear?"_

Dina rolls her eyes, "Third?"

Ellie doesn't say anything, but there's a tenseness to her jaw that tells Dina she's holding on to something. 

"So just the buttons and the bear then?" Dina pushes gently.

"No," Ellie says sullenly, "I'm just--thinking about that place, and the girl we brought back, and...I dunno. I guess Joel has been on my mind a lot. It makes me feel…" She searches for words, fails, shakes her head, "I don't wanna talk about it."

Dina finishes buttoning the shirt, picks up Ellie's free hand, "Ellie, you know you can always talk about him--"

"I said I don't wanna talk about it, Dina," Ellie says sharply, pulling her hand away, "And we haven't even talked about what you did, coming out there, knowing the risk--what if something had happened to you? To both of us? What would happen to JJ?"

A cold surge of anger sweeps up Dina's spine, and she has to hold back her response for a moment for fear of going completely fucking ballistic. It wouldn't help, saying things in anger that couldn't be taken back. She takes a deep breath, tries to use her calmest, most neutral voice.

"If you're talking about how I literally _saved your life_ , I gotta say--you seemed pretty happy to see me at the time."

"Yeah, well, you weren't even supposed to come out there!" 

"Says _who?"_ Dina balks, " _You?_ I'm allowed to go anywhere I want. And at that moment, I chose to go to the place where a _bear_ was about to make you into a light snack--"

"It's not _funny_ , Dina," Ellie says, and there's an agitation about her, a nervous, anxious energy that Dina takes notice of, "Not everything is a fucking joke--you could have gotten killed--"

" _You_ could have gotten killed," Dina points out defensively, "So if what you're saying is that the idea of me getting killed and leaving you alone is fucking _terrifying,_ then maybe you should think about that the next time you have some fucking _scouting_ bullshit to go do."

Ellie doesn't respond, just angrily swipes her coat from the back of a chair and marches out of the room.

"Good luck getting that coat on with one arm, too!" Dina calls after her.

There's no reply, save for the slamming of a door downstairs a few moments later.

She shouldn't have said that. It was petty. Satisfying, but petty. She collapses onto the end of the bed, covers her face in her hands.

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

Fuck.

Why had she done that? Said those things? It seemed reasonable, in the moment, but now, out in the sun, she wasn't sure why she had felt so irritated. Why it had felt like her chest was slowly filling with water, making each breath harder and harder to get. Like the walls were closing in on her. 

There's something about the descending autumn that's getting under her skin. The air is cooling down. The sky is getting a little more gray. And it's just this reminder that the snow is coming, the snow is coming and it makes it impossible not to think about that day, that place.

In every falling leaf, she sees a reminder of his crumpled, empty body. 

A reminder of the inevitability of it all. She can't stop the snow from coming. Can't stop Joel from dying. Can't stop herself from dying someday, too.

And none of that is Dina's fault, so why is she taking it out on her? 

She has to apologize to Dina, but first she needs to cool down and get out of her own head. 

She walks to the back, round to the garage, and knocks on the door. 

Evie answers. 

"Hey," Ellie says, "Do you think you could help me with this jacket?"

"Uh--yeah," Evie steps back to let her in, and Ellie steps through the door.

Evie holds a sleeve up for her and Ellie pushes her uninjured arm through. Evie drapes the other side over the stupid arm with the stupid, infuriating sling.

"Um--I actually wanted to, y'know, talk to you guys," Evie says, "Just to, y'know...say thank you."

"Well...I probably wouldn't have made it very far without you. I should be thanking _you."_

Evie shrugs.

"So, uh--how are you, y'know, liking Jackson so far?"

"It's...different," She says slowly, leaning back against a wall, "In a good way, I mean. People have been really nice."

"That's good," Ellie says, "We'll find something you like doing soon. A trade you want to learn, y'know. You're welcome to stay here, or we can help you choose one of the other residences--"

"I...I like it here," Evie interjects, "I mean, if that's okay. It's a nice setup. I might've gotten into some comic books I found in the closet. I hope that's okay."

"That's fine," Ellie says with a laugh, "I'm just glad someone else is enjoying them."

"Yeah, I lost my collection back in Florida, it was a bummer."

"Florida?" Ellie repeats, "You came all the way from Florida?"

"Yeah," She nods slowly, as if trying to measure how much she's saying, "My mom and my boyfriend and me, we were living in this settlement on the eastern coast, but this hurricane came through, and everything flooded, and the water just...it never went back down. We couldn't go home if we wanted, everything was under water, so we just...had to start walking."

"And where are they now? Your mom and your boyfriend?"

"Dead," She says flatly, "We were trying to get to California. We figured if anything good was happening...it was probably there. I don't know where we were exactly, but we were walking through this field and--bam, we fell into this pit, a big one. It had a clicker in it. Who puts a clicker in a fucking pit in the middle of nowhere?"

She looks down at her shoes--a new pair, complete with laces this time.

"We couldn't fight it off. My boyfriend, John, got bit. All these guys with guns showed up. It was chaos. They pulled him away, and my mom--she tried to fight them. But they...well, they fucking shot her."

"I'm sorry," Ellie says, "That's fucked up."

"It is," Evie agrees, and there's a kind of relief in her, as if maybe no one has affirmed that for her yet, "It's really fucked up. But that's the whole story. They took me to that room. I think I'd been there for a few weeks, but I don't know how long, exactly."

Ellie nods, listening. Then, "Evie--how old are you?"

"Why?" She asks, a little nervous, "I'm not, like, young enough to need to go to some group home or something, if that's what you're thinking--"

"No," Ellie says, "No, Evie, I'm not gonna make you leave, this is _your_ place for as long as you wanna stay."

"Oh. Okay. Well...I'm eighteen," She shifts uncomfortably, adds, "...soon."

Ellie smiles, "Soon, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've sort of lost track of time, so--I dunno, maybe I'm already eighteen."

"It's September the seventeenth," Ellie offers helpfully.

"My birthday's October the eighth," She says, "So...pretty close. John's was the eleventh. He would've been eighteen, too. It's fucked up that he doesn't get to be eighteen, and I do. That's fucked up, right?"

"Yeah…" Ellie says, "Yeah, that's fucked up, Evie. It really is."

\--

 _ **DINA**_. 

Ellie didn't return for a long time, and Dina tried to talk herself out of getting worked up over it. Tried to explain to herself that this would work itself out, that Ellie needed some time. That's all it was...right?

When Ellie did come back, JJ was already asleep, and Dina was clearing the living room. Ellie paused there in the entryway, and Dina stopped what she was doing, stared back at Ellie with Penny the Parrot still in her hands. She waited, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry, Dina," Ellie said finally, "I was a total dick, and you didn't deserve it."

"Okay," Dina says, dropping Penny into a bin of toys by the couch; she folds her arms over her chest, and Ellie finally comes fully into the room. 

Ellie sits down on the couch, fidgets a little anxiously.

"I know this sounds stupid," She begins, "But...it's the weather, I think. I can feel it changing and it just...it fills me up with dread, y'know? It's like...I know he's already dead. I know that. But it's like I can feel it about to happen, and I know I can't stop it, and it just makes me feel--it makes me feel helpless. And I fucking hate feeling helpless. I hate it."

"Yeah," Dina says softly, sitting down beside her, "Yeah, I know you hate feeling helpless. You need to just tell me though. Like, I can't read minds, Ellie. And we can't just...meltdown, every time you feel like this."

"I know," Ellie agrees quietly, "I know. I need to find something to help me, y'know. When I get this way. I dunno. I don't know what that looks like, what that is."

"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We will."

\--

For once, Ellie is sleeping. Dina watches her back slowly rise and fall, calm and steady and safe here in their bed. And it seems unfair that someone should be able to be like this, to be soft and vulnerable and funny and painfully easy to love--and also so infuriating and impossible and reckless. That someone could be so gentle and sentimental and yet so completely, thoroughly inseparable from her own violence.

And, most of all, it was unfair that it could be so easy to protect her from a goddamned _bear_ , and yet so wholly impossible for Dina to protect her from whatever was following her around in her own head. 

Bears, she could fight for Ellie. Demons, she couldn't. 

But, god--she would have, in a heartbeat.

All at once, Ellie is awake and reaching into the nightstand, pulling out a revolver.

"Ellie--" Dina says, "What--"

"Someone's at the kitchen door--" She says.

And then there's a loud, rattling bang against the door downstairs. She doesn't know how Ellie knew--but then again, Ellie's always been hypervigilant like this. 

Dina slips the shotgun from the top drawer of the dresser and follows behind Ellie, down the stairs, into the kitchen, where the knocking is only becoming more urgent.

Ellie gets to the bottom of the stairs first, makes it into the kitchen--sighs and lowers her gun.

"Goddammit, Tommy…" She mumbles and goes to the door, opens it up, "You scared the absolute shit out of us."

"I'm sorry--I'm sorry, Dina, put the damn shotgun down and listen, alright?"

Dina lays the gun down on the table with a frustrated sigh. Ellie collapses into a chair, exhausted, and Dina lays a hand on her shoulder. Fucking _Tommy._

"Listen--we got a letter from the Redford woman--"

"Redford? The New Teton leader?" Ellie asks.

"Yeah, that one. Midnight guards were doing their rounds and found it posted to the front gate. Ellie, fucking look at this."

He tosses a piece of paper over the table. Ellie unfolds it with some confusion and begins to read. Almost immediately, Dina feels her shoulders tense up, her whole body go rigid.

"What is it?" Dina asks, "What's it say?"

"Uh…" Ellie says after a moment, "It says...it says the person of theirs, the one who was killed in that trading trip that started all this? It says...his name was John. Seventeen years old. It says they're so pissed off because...because _he was immune."_  
  



	11. Expendable

_**TOMMY**_.

Ellie didn't move for a long time, just stared down at the paper, head resting in her hands. Dina shifts nervously behind her, hands on Ellie's shoulders; she exchanges a worrying glance with Tommy, each of them silently asking the other, _what's Ellie gonna do now?_

The silence stretches on and on until Dina finally says gently, "Ellie...are you okay?"

"I'm fine…" Ellie says, and her tone is too even, too calm, and it only makes Tommy _more_ nervous that she's about to do something drastic, "I think I just...want to go back to bed."

She pushes away from the table, and the sound of the chair scraping against the floor is almost ear-splitting in the silence.

"Okay," Dina says, watching Ellie with stunned concern, "Okay, but--you don't wanna talk about this--?"

"No," She says firmly, but she stops to touch Dina's hand as she leaves the kitchen, "Not yet."

Tommy and Dina watch her leave with silent confusion.

"How hard did she hit her head back in New Teton?" Tommy asks, "'Cause...that was fuckin' weird."

"Tommy--"Dina sighs, "You have to stop coming to my house in the middle of the night with bad news."

"This ain't _bad_ news--he was _immune_ \--that means there's _more--"_

"And he's also fucking _dead_ , so it's not exactly _great_ news, Tommy."

"Well, how was I supposed to know she'd go full fuckin' _robot_ on us like that," He snaps defensively, and then, in a more hushed tone, "Is she losing it, Dina? I need to know--if she's unstable, that's a major fucking problem, one I need to know about."

"She's not _unstable,"_ Dina says with an edge of warning in her tone, an unspoken addendum of _back the fuck off_ , "You're not exactly the person who needs to be going around questioning anybody's _stability_. She's not crazy, Tommy."

He sighs, deflating, "I...well, I didn't mean it like that. I know she's not--"

"Then don't _say_ it like that," Dina snaps, "And don't think I've forgotten that you left her in a goddamn _pit_ in the ground, either."

"Now that ain't _fair,_ Dina, I didn't have much choice, we were _outnumbered_ \--"

"Yeah, I know," Dina concedes, "Doesn't mean I can't be pissed off about it."

Tommy throws up his hands in a gesture of exasperation. He knew Dina was never going to be his biggest fan, and for good reason--he had played a major part in Ellie's decision to pursue Abby, and Dina was never going to forgive him for that. He wasn't sure he was ever going to forgive _himself_ for it.

But it didn't make it any easier, living on Dina's bad side like this.

"Alright, yeah, I can't win, I get it," He scoffs, "But I thought she should know about this first. Before the council, even. I don't know how she wants to play that out with them."

Dina shrugs, "I don't know, either. But whatever she decides, I'll back her up. Will you?"

"'Course I will," Tommy says, at least a little offended, "Always."

"Good," Dina says, "Now go home, Tommy. I'm sure she'll come find you at Maria's old place as soon as she's ready tomorrow."

"Not at Maria's," He said, "I got a new place. Few doors down from Maria's."

"Oh," Dina says, surprised.

"Yeah…" He says quietly, "Figured it was time to stop moving from one coffin to the next. Time to start new. Do things different."

Dina's expression softens a little, and she nods.

"That's good, Tommy," She says, and her tone is sincere, "We all probably need to do more of that. Y'know...moving on."

\--

 _ **DINA**_.

When the morning comes, Dina finds Ellie is already out of bed. She's sitting at the bedroom window, washed in the early morning light, painted all in hues of copper and burned gold. 

Dina watches, but Ellie is just sitting, looking out the window. There's something in her hands--the letter from last night.

Dina climbs from the bed, goes to her. Ellie doesn't turn or acknowledge her, but Dina wraps her arms around Ellie's shoulders anyway.

Ellie reaches up, touches Dina's arm, and Dina knows she's still there, that she's okay. 

"Are there more?" Ellie asks in a hoarse whisper, "I thought I was the only one."

"I don't know," Dina says gently, "I wish I had answers for you."

Ellie sighs.

"There was something else," Ellie says, "With the letter, I mean. Look."

Ellie shuffles the paper aside, hands a small, square picture over her shoulder to Dina.

Dina straightens up, takes the picture.

It's a Polaroid. There are two faces looming close to the camera, both smiling broadly, openly. Two teenagers goofing off with a camera. The boy is tall, handsome, with a smooth, dark complexion and a kind, infectious smile. Next to him is a girl--it's Evie. Her face is turned up toward him, laughing at something ridiculous he's just done or said--and Dina knows it, even though she wasn't there, because she's looked at Ellie that way a thousand times. 

They look happy. You might not even know the world was in shambles around them. 

At the bottom, in the margin, someone has used a pen to write ' _John & Evie' _in slanted letters, with a little heart just underneath. 

"Fuck…" Dina whispers, "Evie knew him…?"

"Turn it over," Ellie says shortly.

Dina flips the picture over. On the back, in bold, black letters, someone has scrawled a message:

_WE WANT HER BACK._

Dina closes her eyes. Feels the dread drop into her stomach. This can only mean bad things for them, because she knows, deep down, Ellie isn't going to send this girl back without a fight. She just won't. Because whatever Ellie believes about herself, Dina knows she's fundamentally _good._

So good that, someday, it's probably going to get her killed.

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

"No, wait! Aaaagh!"

JJ splashes the brush hard into the cup of rinse water, and Ellie turns her face away from the spray of purple-gray water, laughing.

He jams the brush into the water color palette, brings it back to his paper, happily scrubs it across the page, humming a made up tune to himself.

Ellie watches him with contentment. He's unbound and unworried and unafraid of fucking anything up. Just doing what makes him happy, following his creative gut. She had to admit...she respected that.

There's a knock at the kitchen door and Ellie gets up, lets Evie inside.

"Hey," Evie says uncertainly, looking as though she isn't sure how to fit inside this context, in a quiet kitchen with a toddler painting at the table, "I just...wanted to talk to you again. About, y'know, finding a job for me to do."

Ellie sits back down at the table, pulls the cup of water a little further away from JJ's furiously wriggling elbow.

"Yeah," Ellie says, a little absently, "Yeah, we'll...we'll look at some things you can do soon. Have you had any breakfast?"

Evie fidgets nervously but shakes her head.

"Have some cereal," Ellie says, "Sit with us a while."

Evie hesitates. 

Ellie tries to give a reassuring smile.

"You don't have to, Evie. But you're welcome to. If you want."

Evie gives a small, tight smile, watches JJ for a moment.

"So...where's the cereal?" She asks.

\--

_**DINA**_.

Dina pulls off her boots, leaves them outside the front door, right next to a pair of JJ's tiny galoshes. She likes working at the farm, but she doesn't love bringing the farm inside the house with her.

When she gets inside, she hears voices in the kitchen, and is surprised to find a small crowd at the table. She hangs back in the doorway, watching as Ellie mimes a brush movement in the air, and Evie repeats the motion. JJ has abandoned the brush altogether and has taken the more refined approach of just splashing a painted hand against the page. 

But Ellie is laughing. Really laughing. While Evie tries out the new brush stroke on a piece of paper, Ellie curls her hand into a fist, dips one side into some paint, shows JJ how this makes a whole new, different kind of shape on the paper. And JJ loves nothing more than new, different shapes. He takes to the new technique with vigor.

It's the first time she's seen Ellie even close to _happy_ since coming back from New Teton.

Ellie looks up then, sees her leaning in the doorway.

"Shi--I mean... _shoot,"_ She stammers, getting up from the table with a glance at JJ; she grabs a towel, starts scrubbing the paint from her hands, "Is it already lunch time? I haven't made anything--"

"Don't worry about it," Dina says with a small laugh, and she presses a kiss to Ellie's cheek as she crosses to the kitchen cabinets, "I can see you're pretty busy with your new art school."

Dina pulls down the peanut butter, then a loaf of fresh bread.

"Hey," She says to Evie and JJ, "You guys want sandwiches?"

There's a general concensus that, yes, everyone would like a sandwich. Even Evie, who still seems reserved and unsure, as if she's waiting for the catch in all of this.

Once everyone has a sandwich in front of them, Dina leans against the kitchen counter next to Ellie.

"Y'know...maybe you really _should_ have an art school," She tells Ellie.

Ellie rolls her eyes, takes a bite of her sandwich.

"I don't think _art schools_ are really considered high priority right now," She answers.

"Maybe not a whole school," Dina says, "But Cat--you know she sometimes teaches classes? You could do that. You'd be better at it."

"I'm not...a teacher," Ellie says haltingly.

"Not yet. But you could be. And trust me, if you were _my_ teacher--I would want to learn, like... _all_ the art," Dina grins.

" _Shut up--"_ Ellie laughs.

" _Please teach me alllll of the art things, Professor Williams--"_

" _Dina--"_

There's a scuffle at the table; they look up in time to see Evie making a mad dash for the kitchen door just behind her.

They exchange a worried glance and Ellie moves to go investigate.

Dina lingers in the doorway, watches as Ellie finds Evie kneeling in the stretch of grass just outside the door, looking pale and drained. Ellie kneels next to her just as a fresh wave of retching hits the girl.

"I'm sorry," Evie says once it passes, "I don't know what happened. The peanut butter just--something about the smell--"

Dina freezes in the doorway and a tight, cloying fear begins to creep up her spine because she already knows. She just does.

"I'm just...really tired all the sudden," Evie adds, still catching her breath, "I think I might...go lay down or something."

Ellie looks up at Dina, her eyes round and serious and her face drained of color and they _both_ just _know._

"Fuck," Evie suddenly breaks into a rough sob, "You guys are so _fucking_ nice and I--I feel like shit--"

"It's okay," Ellie says, "Evie, it's fine--"

"It's not!" Evie insists, and she plants herself in the grass, draws her knees to her chest, hides her face, "It's not, I can't--"

"Evie…" Dina says, firm but not unkind, "Is there something you need to tell us?"

"Yeah," Evie sobs, "Yeah, there fucking is. I didn't want to _lie_ , but after being in that place--I didn't know who I could _trust_ \--"

"What is it, Evie?" Ellie persists.

"Those assholes in New Teton--I _know_ what they were doing. They're trying to find people who are immune. That's what the pits are for--they're exposure tests. And John--John was _immune._ I know that sounds fucking crazy, but he got bitten, and _he didn't turn._ Didn't get sick."

Ellie and Dina exchange a loaded glance.

"And...they were gonna test _me._ But the only way to test someone is to expose them, right? So if you're not immune--you _die._ It's beyond fucked up."

"So why didn't they test you?" Dina asks.

"You can't send me back there," Evie says in a panic, "You don't understand--"

"No one's sending you back, Evie," Ellie assures her, "I _swear."_

" _Why didn't they test you?"_ Dina pushes a little harder.

"Because...well, _I_ didn't even know it, until they told me," She gets quiet, and there's a sad, deep resignation in her when she says, "I'm pregnant."

\--

"Holy fuck," Dina whispers up into the dark.

"I know," Ellie says beside her in the bed; both are lying on their backs staring straight at the ceiling.

"Holy _fuck."_

" _I know."_

"What the _fuck_ do we do?" 

" _I don't fucking know."_

"Ellie…" Dina says, "They want her so badly because they want to test the baby when it's born. Right? Is that right?"

"That's what it seems like," Ellie says quietly, "Because the dad was immune, so--they're betting _the baby_ will be immune, too."

"Or maybe they're just gonna _kill a baby."_

"Oh, my god, this is so fucked up," Ellie whispers, " _This is so fucked up."_

"Do we tell Tommy?" Dina asks.

"I don't know yet. I don't know. We will. Not yet. Joel always said to be careful about it, about the immunity thing--god, what if the baby _is_ immune?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the baby's immune? What do we do? Could there be a way to make a cure--?"

" _Ellie,"_ Dina says, "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying we should--I don't know, I'm just saying...if there really is more than just _me,_ then maybe there's a pattern. Maybe there are still some smart people out there who can figure the pattern out and--y'know, do something with it."

"Well, last time, they tried to cut your brain open and kill you, so I'm not crazy about the direction this is going in."

"I'm not…" Ellie sighs, raises up onto one elbow to look down at Dina, "You know I'm not gonna let anyone hurt _a baby._ I'm just saying--it gives me...I don't know. _Hope."_

"And I can see why," Dina says, "But you're forgetting that to even _find out_ if the baby's immune, you'd have to _expose it._ Which is just as likely to, y'know…"

Ellie deflates a little, gives a heavy sigh. 

"For the record," Dina says, and she reaches up to touch Ellie's cheek, "I'm not worried that you'd let someone _hurt a baby_ . I know you wouldn't do that. I'm much more worried that, if it meant finding a cure, you'd let someone _hurt you."_

Ellie turns her face further in toward Dina's hand without contradicting her.

"Ellie…I know how you think. You think you're expendable. I know it's why you keep trying to make me stay behind while you go out dislocating shoulders and fighting bears. But you're not _expendable_ ," Dina says quietly, "Not to us."


	12. Mouthful of Blood

**_TOMMY_**.

The main street in Jackson is bustling. Even with the drop in temperature, people are still out and moving around. It almost feels normal. For a while there, Tommy had been pretty sure he would never see this many people together in one place again. That the world was always gonna be one desolate, empty street after another from now on.

But Jackson proved him wrong. And he never felt like he deserved any of the credit, but it's nice, sometimes, to think he mighta done a thing or two to help make it happen. Especially when it feels like he's nothing but an old, lonely, burnt out Texas boy with a hole in his face where his eye should be. And anymore, he feels like that a lot.

He's trying though. Trying to be better. Trying to take responsibility, to step in and be what Jackson needs him to be, even if he's not totally sure what that means.

He pushes through the crowd and makes for the little carpentry shop at the end of the road. 

The building used to be a bar, but now it's full of the chewing sounds of saws, the clanging of hammers. Darrell is there, behind the long counter in the front. He's an older man with a full, white beard and a perpetually displeased grimace on his face. When he sees Tommy, he nods his head toward the back before Tommy can even ask.

Tommy heads toward the back of the space, finds Ellie at a workbench. She's got a wide panel of wood clamped down in a vise; she starts the circular saw, guides it along a steady line. The severed end of the panel falls to the floor with a clatter.

"Ellie," Tommy says, seizing the brief moment of quiet, "Hey, you and I gotta talk."

"Sure," Ellie says, unfazed, "What's up?" 

She continues working though; she lays some wood glue along a flat edge of a panel, brings another to meet it at a right angle.

"It's been three weeks," Tommy says, "We gotta give the council a report. They know some of what happened at New Teton, but we gotta sit down and tell them, Ellie. Tell 'em the whole thing. Make some decisions."

Ellie turns, rummages in a bin for a second before pulling out a metal corner brace. She fits it into that right angle where the two pieces of wood meet. She retrieves a drill.

"Yeah," Ellie says evenly, "We can tell them what we saw at New Teton. Any more patrols gone missing?"

"No," Tommy says, "But we also gotta tell them about the letter--"

Ellie starts the drill, guides a set of screws through the metal brace, one on each side.

"Dammit," He mutters, "What the hell, Ellie? You've been avoiding me, and I don't know why--it's not like we can just _not_ tell them about the letter--"

Ellie sighs, pulls off one work glove, then the next. 

"I burned it," She says shortly, not meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry," He says with a light laugh, "I'm sorry...you did _what?"_

"I burned it," She repeats in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure no one is listening, "It's gone. We'll tell them what we saw, we'll tell them how fucking crazy they are over there--but there's no reason for us to bring Evie into this."

"You saw the picture," Tommy says, "They were pretty damned specific that _Evie is already in this_. I don't like it either, but you can't keep people in the dark--"

"Tommy--it's complicated--"

"It ain't though, see," Tommy interjects, "You got a responsibility to help lead, and that means sharing information with the rest of the class--"

"Tommy--" Ellie says sharply; she shakes her head, says quietly, "She's pregnant."

"Oh, fuck," Tommy mutters.

"Yeah."

"It's--the immune boy, it's his?"

Ellie nods.

"Ah, shit--that's why--"

"Why they want her, yeah," Ellie finishes for him, "They're testing people for immunity, and that baby will be at the top of the list."

"But what if the baby's _not_ immune?"

"Yeah, Tommy, that's the fucking point."

"Jesus," He mutters in an exasperated huff.

"And we still don't know what our people will do, if they find out immunity is, y'know--a real thing."

"We have good people, Ellie," Tommy says firmly, "They would never do anything like that."

"Tommy...you and I both know the only difference between a _good_ person and a _bad_ person is _desperation._ Give them the idea there's a way to end all this, to protect the people they love--they'll do _anything."_

Tommy wants to argue, but she's not wrong. 

"But you can't just _burn_ things without askin' me," He says, "You're making me a _liar,_ which I didn't sign up for."

"I'm sorry, Tommy. This is just how it is. Joel always said to be careful. I'm being careful."

"Fucking _Joel,"_ Tommy sighs, "I don't like this, Ellie. I don't like it at all."

"Look, Tommy--we tell them what we saw. We tell them that right now--we don't do anything. We work on building our defenses and training up as many patrolmen as we can. We double up patrol teams, make sure nobody's gonna get ambushed or dropped into any fucking pits."

"And then what?" Tommy asks, "Just wait for them to stop being interested in a fucking _cure?"_

"No…" Ellie says, "We wait for them to do something desperate. Something stupid. We wait for them to fuck up."

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

"Oh, is that my new table? Can you bring it over here?"

Ellie heaves against the dolly, loaded with the table she's built, and it rolls forward into the room.

"Wow, it's really nice--oh. Ellie. Hi."

Cat looks stunned, blinks in surprise from behind a pair of cat-eye glasses. Her dark hair is longer, tied up neatly, but otherwise she hasn't changed terribly much. 

"Cat," Ellie says, "How's it going?"

"It's good," Cat says, "I heard you were back, but--well, I guess I should have come by to see you or something--"

"It's okay, Cat," Ellie says with an easy, reassuring smile.

"Wait--did _you_ build this table?" Cat asks in bewilderment.

"Yeah, actually," Ellie says, "I saw you'd put in an order so I...well, I wanted to try something. I saw some of these in the art department of this college one time and I thought--well, let me show you--"

Ellie tilts it off the dolly, lowers it to the floor. 

"See, it's got this bracket here underneath," She ducks down and shows Cat what she's talking about, "So you can do this--"

She grabs the surface of the table and tilts it up, lowers it back down.

"Oh, shit--so you can adjust the plane you're drawing on, I get it--that's amazing, Ellie."

"Yeah, I mean...the ones I saw, you could also raise and lower the height, but...I haven't figured out how to make that work yet."

"This is so crazy," Cat draws a chair to the table, lays a piece of paper down, tilts the tabletop up, then down, back up, "I fucking _love_ it."

"That's great," Ellie says, and she lets her attention wander around the space, "Do you mind if I--?"

"No, please, have a look around," Cat says, and she gets up to show Ellie the space, "It's not much, but--I mean, I don't think it's bad. Mostly kids, but--I actually really vibe with kids, so I don't mind. And it gives them something other than, y'know, _monsters_ to think about."

Ellie looks around appreciatively. It's definitely a different kind of space than she's used to. Vibrant colors, wild and alive paintings plastering the walls, gently drifting mobiles dripping down from the low ceiling. 

“I think it’s fucking great,” Ellie says, and a smile pulls at her lips, something genuine and irrepressible.

There’s a wall with a long bookshelf, and the bookshelf is full of books-- _art_ books. Books on color theory, on composition and concept and layout, on anatomy and perspective and design. 

“What’s this?” Ellie asks, and she pulls a book from the shelf. The cover is emblazoned with the title, _Art Therapy: Principles and Guides._

“Oh, it’s a book on...well, art therapy. Using art to help people process, y’know...bad shit.”

“That’s a thing?” Ellie asks, turning the book over in her hands.

“Yeah,” Cat says, “Or...I mean, it used to be. Not so much anymore, for obvious reasons.”

“Huh,” Ellie makes a thoughtful noise, “Do you mind if I...borrow this?”

“No,” Cat says quickly, “Not at all.”

“Thanks, Cat,” Ellie says, “And I, uh...I hope the table helps.”

“It will,” Cat says, and she hesitates before saying, “Ellie...do you remember that time I asked you to, y’know--teach an art class with me?”

Ellie nods, “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well--you’re welcome around here anytime you want. And the offer still stands.”

“Have you been talking to Dina?” Ellie asks with some suspicion.

Cat shrugs, “Maybe a little.”

Ellie gives a small laugh.

“Thanks, Cat. I’ll think about it.”

__

“Oh, a book,” Dina says when Ellie arrives home and lays the thing on the kitchen table, “That’s something new.”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, “I stopped in to see Cat and this book kinda...caught my attention.”

“So you’re gonna teach an art class, right?” Dina asks with far too much excitement.

“I’m _thinking_ about it,” Ellie says, but she’s smiling despite herself as she sits down heavily in a chair.

“So when do I have to start calling you _professor?”_ Dina asks, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder.

“Are _professors_ even a thing anymore? I don’t think they can be. No more colleges, no more _professors.”_

“Please don’t ruin this for me,” Dina whispers, slipping into her lap.

“Wow, this is--this is really doing something for you? The whole _professor_ thing?”

“It started as a joke but now it’s really not a joke, no. How do you feel about trying on a pair of glasses?”

Ellie laughs, “You’re completely ridiculous.”

Dina smiles, kisses her.

Ellie reaches up, pushes a tangle of dark hair away from Dina’s eyes. 

“I want things to stay just like this,” Ellie says quietly, “Tell me nothing’s ever gonna change, Dina.”

Dina smiles, but it’s touched with sadness.

“Everything changes,” Dina says in a small voice, “But I can promise I’m always going to love you just like this. I hope that’s enough.”

Ellie leans forward, kisses her again.

“It’s more than enough.”

\--

Ellie is asleep.

 _Really_ asleep.

It had taken a while to finally get used to this, but after several weeks of these routines, of painful, wonderful, tedious _normal,_ her body seemed to finally be getting the message that it could relax. Could fall asleep without forcing her to stay constantly half-awake. It was finally accepting this as a safe space, a place where she could be off her guard.

And that’s probably how they got so far into the house.

There’s a creak somewhere in the house, and it brings her to full consciousness in a second; but it’s too late--the next sound is the high-pitched squeak of door hinges, and only one door in the house makes that noise--JJ's door.

Ellie is scrambling for the gun in the nightstand, kept right next to her mother’s old knife. Her heart is hammering in her throat as she puts her feet down as quietly as possible on the floorboards. Dina stirs in the bed; Ellie catches her eye, shakes her head silently, and Dina knows immediately what’s going on.

Ellie takes a quiet step toward their door, trying to see around the edge, down into the dark hallway--but then a cry breaks out in the silence-- _JJ is crying_ \--

And it’s like the snapping of a rubber band somewhere in her brain; she takes off into the dark hall--and as soon as she clears their bedroom door, she’s met with the hammer blow of a rifle butt to the face.

She drops hard, and the world explodes into a flood of white light; pools of deep darkness pulsate behind her eyes and pain radiates across her entire face.

JJ is still crying.

“Female one incapacitated,” Someone says, and she feels someone drop, press a knee into her back.

Fuck. Oh fuck. 

Her mouth is full of blood, she can hardly breathe. But she thrashes against the knee on her back, catches the fucker off guard, throws him off balance. She scrambles toward her dropped pistol but another set of boots kicks it away; a man comes out into the hall, and he has a squalling JJ in his arms.

“Fucking put him _down!”_ She screams, surging to her feet, “Put him down, you fuck!”

Someone swings the rifle butt at her again, hits her between the shoulder blades this time, and as soon as she hits the floor there’s multiple pairs of arms pressing in on her, knees pushing in on every part of her, it feels like.

She flails against the hold. Someone brings the beam of a flashlight around, blinds her, leans down to look into her face.

“Subject from Pit Twelve,” One of them confirms, “This is the bitch that nearly bit Jaime’s ear off when we brought her in. Fuckin’ animal.”

She takes that mouthful of blood, spits it directly into the beam of the flashlight. 

“FUCK,” Flashlight guy reels away, and she can seem him wiping his face in a frenzy, “FUCKING DISGUSTING.”

“We can’t find the girl anywhere,” Another one appears at the top of the stairs.

“And weren’t there supposed to be two of them? The bedroom’s empty. There were supposed to be two adult women here. We only have one.”

“God,” Bloody Face sneers in disgust, still smearing the blood away, “Fucking _find them--”_

JJ is screaming, reaching for Ellie on the floor, and Ellie’s heart is filling up her chest, pounding so hard that she can hardly get a breath and it’s too much, it’s too much like Joel, it’s too much and she knows what’s about to happen--something terrible, something _terrible_ ; she screams in the floor, spitting blood and straining against their hold on her until every muscle in her body feels ready to rupture.

“Fucking shut her up,” Bloody Face hisses in her direction, “We don’t need her alive and she’s gonna wake up the whole goddamn--”

A shot blasts through JJ’s doorway and Bloody Face crumples to the ground, missing a considerable amount of the left side of his neck and chest.

The barrel of a shotgun edges out of JJ’s doorway; Dina fires a shot into one of the fuckers pinning Ellie down, and it’s enough to cause them all to scatter. She must have gone through their window, over the roof, back into JJ's window--it catches all the remaining assholes completely off guard.

Ellie immediately springs for the guy at the end of the hall, who’s already letting JJ down.

“He’s fine, _he’s fine_ \--fuck,” The guy breaks for the stairs, but by the time he gets to the bottom, he’s met with the stiff swing of a baseball bat.

Evie steps into view at the bottom of the stairs. She tightens her hold on the bat and nods at Ellie.

Ellie scoops JJ up and holds him close to her, too close, too tight, but she can’t loosen up; he’s still bawling, alternating between her name and a repeating refrain of _mom mom mom mom._

Another blast from the bedroom. Ellie runs for the doorway, finds Dina standing over the last guy. There’s blood on her face, and a bruise already forming over one of her eyes.

They stare at each other, speechless, terrified, relieved that it's over. That they're somehow all alive.

Ellie’s legs give out and she drops to her knees, unable to let go of JJ.

She can’t let him go.

She can't. 


	13. Baby or Not

_**ELLIE**_.

There’s an empty buzzing in her ears. A low, wavering whine, like a radio between proper stations. She’s just sitting, sitting and pulling in one slow breath after the next and staring at a small spot on the rug in the floor, a dark shape with ill-defined edges, an amorphous pool, dry now but not earlier. It’s Dina’s blood. Dina hadn’t noticed, hadn’t been aware of how badly the cut at her temple was bleeding; she hadn’t seen how it had traced down the perfect curve of her cheek, down to the line of her jaw, dripped in a steady stream onto the floor during the long moment when she’d knelt in front of JJ there in the living room, searching him for wounds.

The image was going to be with Ellie for a long time. Dina, face bruised and bloody, trying to comfort and care for their son, who couldn’t stop crying. Whose little hands were shaking.

“Are you sure you got ‘em all?” Tommy asks from somewhere behind her, but the low whine, the white noise, makes it hard to hear, or care.

“I got one down here,” Evie says helpfully.

“We got four more upstairs,” Dina says, “So five in total. I think we got them all. And JJ’s fine, that’s what really matters. Just a little bruise on his arm where that _fucker_ must have grabbed him. He’s finally sleeping now--”

Ellie got up. Her head was still pounding, her face aching, blazing with pain. But it seemed far away somehow, like the pain belonged to someone else. Like she was watching someone else feel it. Someone else's face was smashed to shit. Someone else would have to deal with it, all this damage, because she had things to do.

“Ellie?” Dina says, surprised, worried.

Ellie doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what to say, because the noise in her head is too much, because there’s a swelling in her chest that makes her feel like she’s going to explode, or vomit, or both. 

More than anything, there’s a cool, clear rage pooling inside her; not the spontaneous, erratic kind of rage, but something much more focused and sharp.

She goes to the stairs, starts to climb them.

“Ellie!” Dina says, more insistent, “Ellie--what are you doing?”

Ellie goes to their room, goes to the nightstand. She rips open the drawer and pulls out her knife--sticks it into her back pocket.

When Dina catches up, Ellie is in the closet; she comes out with a backpack.

“What are you doing?” Dina asks.

Ellie says nothing. There’s nothing to say. There’s nothing. _Nothing._

Ellie goes back to the closet, opens up a lock box. Begins pulling out an assortment of cached supplies.

“Ellie--talk to me, please--”

Ellie comes back from the closet, stuffs some items into the backpack. Tests the flashlight still affixed to one of the straps.

She stops for a moment, looking down at the little light. She turns it off.

“I’ve gotta go,” She says flatly, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“ _Go?”_ Dina says with alarm, “ _Go fucking where?”_

“ _Out there!”_ Ellie says, and she rips a few items of clothing from the closet, pushes them into the bag, “I’m gonna fucking kill them, I am--I’m gonna kill them, Dina--”

“Ellie,” Dina says, and she grabs a hold of Ellie’s wrists, holds on tight even as Ellie tries to pull away, “ _Ellie…._ no.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Ellie says, trying to break her grip, " _Yes--_ they can’t do this, Dina--they can’t, they hurt him, they hurt JJ--they hurt _you--”_

“We’re _fine_ ,” Dina says, “Ellie, we’re okay--”

“Because we got fucking _lucky,”_ Ellie says, too loud, but she feels like she can’t control it, like the buzzing is getting louder and she can’t even hear herself think, “I couldn’t _do_ anything, just like with Joel, _just like with fucking Joel_ , and they were going to kill you and JJ and I was just--there in the _fucking floor--”_

She can’t breathe. She really can’t breathe. There isn’t enough air in the room. She’s so full of fear and panic and rage that there isn’t enough room left in her chest for her lungs to expand.

“Ellie--” Dina says, hands at her face, “Ellie, look at me, you have to take a breath--”

But she can’t. She can’t make it stop, this crushing feeling; she sinks to the floor and Dina sinks with her. 

“Ellie…” Dina says quietly and it feels like she can barely hear her over the roaring in her head, the heaving of her ineffective breaths, the screaming of her brain demanding proper oxygen, “Ellie, we’re okay.”

Dina grips her face, hard, won’t let her look away, and Ellie reaches out, grabs her wrists--and somehow it’s like finding a rock to cling to in a storm. Dina is _real,_ and she’s okay, she’s really okay--

“I couldn’t do anything,” Ellie tells her in a fractured voice, “Just like Joel.”

“Look at me--I’m fine, babe. I am. We’re both fine. JJ’s fine. Right?”

Ellie nods.

“ _Whatever comes our way, we’ll handle it when it gets here._ Remember? Well, it got here--and we fucking handled it.”

Ellie hangs her head, exhausted and empty and out of words, out of room for anything else, any more feelings. She sees Tommy hovering near the doorway uncertainly, and Evie just behind him, looking worried.

She closes her eyes and leans into Dina, lets Dina wrap her arms around her shoulders.

There’ll be hell to pay, but for a few moments, a few dark, empty moments--she just needs to be held by someone who loves her.

She just needs to let herself be small, and afraid, and shaken.

\--

 _ **DINA**_.

“You have to hold still,” Dina chides gently, “It’s just going to hurt worse if you wiggle around.”

“God, just pull it off already,” Ellie grimaces with displeasure underneath the wide cotton bandage stretched across the bridge of her nose, “You’re taking too long.”

“Okay, well, _you’re_ kinda being a big jerk, especially for someone who needs my help--”

“I’m _sorry,_ please just--shit!”

Ellie winces away as Dina rips the bandage away.

“Fucking _fuck_ , that hurt,” Ellie wrinkles her nose experimentally, “Give me the bad news--it’s totally fucked, isn’t it? My modeling days are over, huh?”

“Well…” Dina says slowly, “No, you’re never gonna model again, sadly. But that’s because, y’know, the world fucking ended and modeling isn’t a thing anymore.”

“Oh, shit,” Ellie says, reaching up to gingerly touch the affected area, “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Don’t touch it! Just leave it alone. It’s fine, honestly--” Dina pushes her hands away from her face, “Your eyes are still pretty bruised, but trust me, your nose is still a totally perfect, adorable _Ellie_ nose.”

Ellie grumbles and rolls her eyes.

“You might have...well, a little scar,” Dina adds a little more softly; she reaches up and gently touches the horizontal mark in question, a sharp line cutting across the bridge of Ellie’s nose. Not noticeable, really, unless you knew it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Ellie’s eyes focus on Dina’s, and Dina knows she’s looking for her reaction, wants to know what Dina is thinking as she’s seeing this scar, this mark.

It doesn’t make Ellie any less attractive to Dina--not in the least. But the truth is that it makes her scared. It makes her feel a deep, mournful sense of loss. It feels like the beginning of things to come.

“Scars are sexy,” Dina says without hesitation, “I’ve always said it.”

Ellie seems to relax a little.

“Joel had a scar, about the same place,” Ellie says slowly, thoughtfully, “Never asked how he got it. Guess it was probably from a rifle to the fucking face.”

“Who knows,” Dina says with a sigh, “But let’s try to avoid any more facial injuries, huh? I’m kinda fond of it. Your face, I mean.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ellie says with a shrug, “No promises.”

“You’re very funny, has anyone ever told you?” Dina quips, rising from the couch.

“Yeah, this super hot girl I married has told me that a time or two--”

“Really?” Dina asks, “It sounds like maybe she meant _annoying_ instead of _funny--”_

“I’m pretty sure it’s both, most of the time.”

“And I bet she’s totally in love with you for it. Now--do you wanna go get Evie? Dinner’s almost done.”

“Sure,” Ellie says, drifting toward the back door, “You got it.”

“You were talking about _me_ , right?” Dina calls after her, “ _I’m_ the super hot girl you married?”

“Well, I’m not married to any other super hot girls--” Ellie says as she slips out of the door.

“No, I--”

“Or am I?” Ellie says in an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper.

“Please go now,” Dina says with a scoff, "The other hot wives and I need some time to talk about how annoying you are."

\--

_**ELLIE.** _

Ellie shuts the door, follows the path out to the garage. She starts to knock, but the door falls open. 

Her heart immediately begins to hammer in her throat.

She eases the door open, her hand reaching back to get a firm hold on the knife in her pocket, the knife she couldn’t bring herself to put back after the New Teton intruders.

The room inside looks normal enough. Nothing overturned or broken. No signs of a struggle. Ellie’s old desk is strewn with various art supplies--Evie seems to have taken to the practice. Right in the center of the desk is a book, lying open.

Ellie recognizes the journal she’d gifted to Evie just a few weeks ago. Her eyes keep sweeping the room, but she inches toward the desk, toward the book.

There’s a note scrawled on the page, lying open there on the desk.

“ _Dina & Ellie, _

_I heard what they were saying. The guys from New Teton. I know they were looking for me. You guys aren’t safe as long as I’m here and that’s just not fair. I couldn’t have fucking lived with myself if something had happened to you guys, if something had happened to JJ._

_I don’t know where I’m going, but that’s probably for the best. At least no one will be able to find me. Thank you for everything you guys have done for me. The past two months have been some of the most normal, easy months of my whole life and I can’t tell you how much it means, that you guys gave me that. If I can give my baby even half the love and happiness and protection you guys give JJ, then I’ll be doing alright, I think._

_Thank you._

_\--Evie_

_PS._

_I took some comic books. I’m sorry.”_

Ellie gave a deep sigh.

Goddammit.

\--

_**EVIE’S JOURNAL** _

I’ve never kept a journal before. It always seemed kind of pointless. Moving around so goddamn much--impossible to keep track of anything, y’know? 

But that’s different now, I guess. I haven’t been in one place this long in years. 

I wish mom and John could see this place.

I wish they could meet Ellie and Dina.

I think he and Ellie would get along really well. I miss him so much. Even when things were fucking hell, he found a way to make them seem okay. He found a joke to make, or a song to sing, or a way to make me forget that everything was on fire, if only for a second.

He would like it here.

\--

I keep having these nightmares. 

I’m trapped in the house back in Florida, and the water just keeps getting higher. I keep getting tangled in all these weeds under the water, but they’re not weeds at all, they’re clickers, trying to pull me under.

I just want to sleep.

\--

Talked to Dina today about Jackson, how she came here, met Ellie. She told me some about her sister, Talia. It sounds like she was a badass.

If I have a daughter, I hope she’s like them. Ellie and Dina and Talia. I hope she can find that line, y’know, between _surviving_ and _thriving._ I hope someday this world will have more to offer her than it’s offered any of us.

If I have a son, I hope he’s like John.

I hope he’s always ready with a joke or a song. 

I just hope the world doesn’t fuck him over, the way it did John.

I’ve never thought so much about all my stupid _hopes._ Kids make you feel weird things, I guess.

PS.

 _John_ for a boy.

 _Talia_ for a girl?

\--

They came looking for me last night.

They hurt Ellie and Dina. I don’t think they knew to look out here, in the garage. Must have thought I was in the house with everyone else. I only woke up because I heard Dina’s shotgun. 

I know why they want the baby. I do. But I saw what they were doing. They can wear lab coats and pretend, but they’re not doctors. They’re not any kind of government--there hasn’t even _been_ a government in years. I don’t think they know what they’re doing and that makes it all the more terrifying.

Even if the baby was the last immune person on earth--and, I don’t know, that could be true--I don’t think they would actually know what to do with that. They wouldn’t know how to make a cure. 

I don’t think I can stay here. Dina and Ellie and JJ--they don’t deserve this trouble. Didn’t ask for this.

I think I have to go.

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

It’s not very hard to track her.

Ellie just follows the feedback from the patrol stations, and each one points her a little closer to the _girl with the red hair, walking alone._

When Ellie finally catches up, late the following evening, Evie’s reached the old suspension bridge; it’s just a two-way bridge, spanning the Snake River, but it’s still clogged with abandoned cars, scattered luggage, chunks of asphalt. 

Ellie rides up, leads the horse to walk alongside Evie, who doesn’t look up.

“So...where are we going exactly?” Ellie asks after a long moment.

“I told you,” Evie says, “I don’t know. And you weren’t supposed to come looking for me.”

“Well...Dina says I have a problem with authority and following directions. Personally, I just think she likes being bossy, but--”

“I meant it, Ellie,” Evie says hotly, “You weren’t supposed to know--”

“Everybody knows where you are,” Ellie says, “It wasn’t hard to follow you. That’s the problem, Eves--going it alone is hard. Maybe even impossible.”

“ _You’ve_ done it,” Evie says, “Dina told me.”

“Yeah, but…” Ellie pauses, continues gently, “I wasn’t, y’know--”

“Pregnant? I’m pregnant, Ellie, not dying of cancer--”

“Yeah, I get it, geez--I just...I don’t know what that’s like. But I know it made Dina real sick. And her pregnancy wasn’t even, like--complicated. What if something happens and you need help, Evie?”

“Then I guess I’ll die,” Evie says dismissively, “It’s better than getting _you guys_ killed.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m definitely in the business of keeping my family _not dead,”_ Ellie slips down from the saddle, walks alongside Evie; she keeps the reins with one hand, jams the other into her coat pocket, “But, y’know...JJ asks about you every morning. Dina says you’re doing great out at the farm. Says you have a real thing going with the goats--”

“I’m not sure that’s the best phrasing--”

“I’m just saying. For better or worse. Whether you like it or not…” Ellie shrugs, “I think you’re part of my family, too.”

Evie stops.

“It’s not your job to protect me,” Evie says hotly.

“I know,” Ellie says, “It’s _your_ job to protect you. It’s my job to help. That’s how a family works. Like--I know Dina can take care of herself, but I’m there, y’know...for when she can’t.”

“Well, I’ve been keeping track, and it sounds like she’s saved _you_ a lot more than the other way around--”

“Yeah, okay, smart guy,” Ellie huffs, “I know. I married a badass and I’d be dead a hundred times over without her. My point still stands.”

Evie shifts uncomfortably, undecided, and she looks impossibly young, standing in the middle of the road, alone, burdened with the crushing weight of an innocent life. 

Logically, Ellie knows she’s not that much younger than herself. Maybe five years wouldn’t have been that much of a difference in the old world; given the right timing, they might have ended up at the same college together, in a pre-Outbreak world. But now, five years is a lifetime, and for the first time in her life, Ellie feels _old._ It’s not a great feeling, and yet--it means she’s survived, when others haven’t, so she has to take it with some amount of gratitude, too.

“I can’t _make_ you come back,” Ellie says, “There’s totally a chance that you’re gonna kick ass and make it out here. You’re a fighter. Like the rest of us. I’m just saying...you’ve got people who wanna make it easier.”

Evie draws a sleeve across her face, wipes away a trail of tears stubbornly.

"Dina told me once..." Ellie goes on, "...she said that JJ needs all the people he can get. And it's true, y'know. Kids need people. _People_ need people."

There's an easy, full silence between them.

"I mean, plus," Ellie shrugs, "I’ve been working on this crib down at the shop, and it’s been such an absolute bitch to get right that _someone_ is going to have to sleep in it, baby or not.”

Evie gives a tearful laugh.

“Tommy could probably fit, if he really tried,” Ellie went on.

“ _Dammit, Ellie,”_ Evie does a solid impersonation of Tommy’s southern drawl, “ _How the hell am I supposed to sleep in this thing?”_

They both laugh. 

“He’s not as tall as he looks,” Ellie says, “He could fit if he took off the boots, I bet. It’s all in the cowboy boots.”

The horse stamps its feet impatiently, and Ellie reaches up to brush a hand over its face consolingly.

“So, what do you say--do you wanna come back or what?”

Evie hesitates. Nods.

Ellie climbs up in the saddle, helps Evie climb up behind her. 

“Keep an eye out for bears,” Ellie instructs her as they make their way back across the bridge, toward the path back to Jackson, “I’m never gonna live it down if Dina has to save me from _two_ bears.”

“What are we gonna do, Ellie,” Evie asks after a long moment, “About New Teton, I mean. They’re not gonna stop.”

“I don’t know yet…” Ellie says, “But I’m working on it. Promise.”  
  



	14. Like the Tide in Santa Barbara

**_ELLIE_**.

“It’s not much,” Ellie says, “But I thought...well, just go ahead and open it.”

Evie looks at her quizzically, then down at the wooden box in her lap.

“You made the box, too?” Dina asks from beside Ellie on the couch.

“I’m a little bit offended that you’re still so surprised by this. I make things now, have you not been paying attention?”

“I mean, it’s just got a nice little hinged lid and everything--I’m gonna admit it, I’m impressed--”

“ _Thank you--”_

“And I’m also gonna need you to make some things for the house--”

“Wait--”

“Also, I want to watch you make the things sometimes?”

“What--”

“Just...with the hammering...and the arms--you have, you know...very nice arms--”

She lays a hand on Ellie’s arm, as if to demonstrate this.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Evie clears her throat.

“Sorry, Evie--go ahead and open it,” Ellie repeats.

“Like a sleeveless--”Dina whispers at Ellie as Evie opens the box lid, “--you have, like, a sleeveless work shirt, right? ‘Cause that’s the direction I need that to go in--”

“Wow,” Evie says, pulling something out of the box with both hands, ”A _camera?”_

“Yeah. It was in pretty rough shape when I found it, but Dina helped me tinker with it and you just have to press the shutter kind of hard. But there’s more--”

Evie reaches back in, pulls out a sturdy square panel of wood. It’s a picture frame--or rather, many picture frames. A half dozen or so are empty, but at the very top, safely secured, is a picture.

“Me and John,” Evie says with surprise, “I thought we lost this, back...back in New Teton…”

“Well...we have lots of pictures of JJ, thanks to Robin, and we just thought...there should be lots of pictures of your baby, too.”

“Thank you,” She says with a tearful, happy laugh, “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

She holds up the camera, points it at the two of them. Ellie smiles. Dina flexes one arm, uses the other to point at Ellie. 

“ _Dina--”_ Ellie says reproachfully just as the shutter clicks.

“This is fucking _gold_ ,” Evie laughs.

\--

 _ **DINA**_.

The months wear on and while Ellie continues to sleep less than any living thing Dina’s ever known of, things otherwise fall into a very comfortable semblance of normal. 

Dina and Evie spend many lunches talking over what to expect from the impending delivery. 

“Ellie was a nervous wreck,” Dina recalls, taking a drink of her tea, “Like, a literal nervous wreck. Practically walking into walls. It was...horrifying and adorable.”

“Ellie? I saw her spit blood into a guy’s face--”

“I know!” Dina says, “You’d think it wouldn’t be a major deal, considering all we’ve been through, but--she was all tapping fingers and pacing and _are you okay-_ ing me to death. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but...eventually I was like, _just shut up and hold my hand.”_

Dina laughs, thinking on the memory.

“She didn’t shut up though. And thank god for that. She figured out what I needed to hear, talked me through the whole thing. I don’t know how I would have done it without her. And, y’know, the doctor and midwife here in Jackson, but--Ellie was obviously the MVP.”

“Um...you birthed a human person,” Evie says, leaning on folded arms against the table top, “Pretty sure that makes _you_ the MVP.”

“Yeah, I’m for sure the MVP, you’re right.”

They share a small laugh.

“I wish John could be there,” Evie says quietly, “I miss him so much still. I don’t know if that ever goes away.”

“I don’t think it does,” Dina says gently, “Sometimes I think about it like…” She pauses, tries to find the right words, “You know the whole thing they say about dreaming--if you’re not sure if you’re dreaming, you’re supposed to pinch yourself. If it hurts, then it’s real. I’m not saying that _hurt_ is a good thing, but...I think of it as a sign that they were real. That they affected you in a real way. Missing them, that pain...it’s fucking heavy, and it sucks, but it’s a way of knowing they really happened. It doesn’t go away, but you find better ways of carrying it. I can promise that much, at least.”

Evie gives a slow nod of understanding.

“Talking about them is important, too, I think,” Dina says, “People are only really gone when we stop talking about them.”

She takes a long drink from her tea, sets it back down on the table.

“So tell me about John,” She says.

Evie smiles, takes a deep breath.

\--

 _ **ELLIE**_.

Ellie fidgets with the sleeves of the jacket she’s wearing, tugging uncomfortably at the cuffs. It’s too stiff, too binding, and she fucking hates it. She’s going to change. She doesn’t care how fancy the stupid party is, she can’t stomach one more second of this death trap--

“Don’t even think about it, buddy--” Dina says, descending the stairs.

Ellie stands up, drawn to her feet by the sight.

"Wow,” Ellie says, and she can feel the stupid, lopsided grin on her face, but she can’t do anything to stop it, “ _Wow.”_

The current standard for formal wear probably wouldn’t have made the cut by pre-apocalypse terms, but Dina is stunning in a close cut, delicate top and slim, black trousers.

“Holy shit,” Ellie says in a nervous laugh, like it’s the first time she’s ever seen a _pretty girl._

“Flattering me isn’t gonna change my mind, you still have to wear the jacket,” Dina says, adjusting an earring, “You look--”

Dina stops, having finally caught full sight of Ellie in her outfit for the evening. Just a black suit jacket, white shirt, black jeans. Simple, straight forward, like Ellie. 

“You look-- _really_ good,” Dina says, smiling; she steps in, kisses Ellie; she lays a hand on each side of the jacket, “I think you’re going to have to wear suit jackets more often--I was not expecting... _this.”_

Ellie laughs, picks up her hands.

“You’re beautiful, Dina,” She says softly, slow and sincere, “And I love you. And that’s the only reason I’m going to keep this on for more than five minutes.”

“C’mon,” She says, “Let’s go watch these dummies get married, then we can come home and _I’ll_ take the jacket off for you. Deal?”

“Fuckin’ _deal,”_ Ellie agrees with a laugh.

\--

It’s a warm summer night--which isn’t helping the suit jacket situation--but otherwise, it’s a perfect evening for getting married.

It’s strange, sometimes, to come to these sorts of parties, these celebrations; Ellie can’t help but think about Ben. He had a wedding here, probably not that much different than this one. Then he was shot dead in an instant. And now here they are, having yet another wedding.

It’s a cycle that keeps moving, a reminder that life keeps pushing forward. And there’s something sad in it, and yet--hopeful, too. The world moves on, and the only option is to move on with it.

Dina is in her element. They’ve spent a great many days and nights being boring, and normal, and cooped up. But tonight, Dina isn’t just a mom, or a wife, a partner, a fighter. She’s all of them, and she’s none of them. She’s _Dina._ And it’s something else, watching her smile and crack jokes and exude the full extent of her natural charm. 

She’s a goddamn force of nature, and it’s more amazing to Ellie than ever that she would choose to spend her life with _her._ She could have anyone--there isn’t a person in this entire burned down goddamn world that would turn her away. But she chooses to lie down next to Ellie, every single night. 

Ellie’s never been big on religion, for a lot of reasons--but Dina? Dina’s a fucking _miracle_ , if ever there was one.

Dina makes her way back through the crowd to where Ellie is lingering comfortably, drink in hand. Dina slips the drink from her and takes a sip, smirking. There’s a red flush to her cheeks, warm and inviting and perfect.

Ellie smiles back at her.

“Having a good time?” She asks, despite the fact that Dina is _clearly_ having a good time.

“I _am,_ ” She confirms, maybe a little too forcefully, but Ellie isn’t worried--tipsy Dina is an absolute gem, “I’d be having a better time if my wife would dance with me.”

“You know I’m not a great dancer,” Ellie reminds her, just in case she’s forgotten.

“Does it look like anybody here’s getting an award for their dancing?” Dina laughs, “C’mon. Please.”

She tugs Ellie’s hand, and Ellie never really had a choice but to follow her. That’s always been their truth, from the moment they met: _Ellie never really had a choice but to follow her._

It’s a slow song, and Dina wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, brings her cheek close to Ellie’s. It’s hard not to think of the last time they did this--which seems like a thousand years ago. It was stiff then, awkward, but every space between them had buzzed with an electric tension, like two magnets poised to snap together at any second. 

It’s different now. They fold into each other in an easy, practiced, comfortable way, and the tension has been replaced by something else. It’s still just as alive, still just as dynamic and enthralling, but deeper. Two magnets that have come together, at last, and are never coming apart again.

“We could still do this, you know,” Dina says quietly against her ear, “We could get married like _this.”_

“We’re already married,” Ellie says, “Can we get married again? Is that legal?”

“Well if I’m gonna illegally _double marry_ anybody,” Dina says with a quiet laugh, “I’d want it to be you.”

“Dina,” Ellie says, turning her face closer to Dina’s, “Will you illegally double marry me?” 

“Fucking _yes,”_ Dina says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“So you want a party and everything?” Ellie asks, “Now who’s the _sap?”_

“I dunno,” Dina says, voice softening, and she leans into the curve between Ellie’s neck and shoulder, “I love you a little more every day, you know? I really do. And tonight I realized--I wanna tell everyone that. It’s not that I need them to _know._ I just want to _say it.”_

Ellie smiles, and it’s that stupid, crooked grin again, she can tell, but she’s done trying to pretend that Dina doesn't, in fact, turn her into a complete and total _sap_.

“I love you a little more every day, too,” Ellie tells her, “I don’t say it enough. Any of it. How beautiful you are. What a great mom you are. How much I need you, every day.”

Dina pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, and normally Dina might have had a quippy comeback, something teasing and clever, but this time is different.

“Yeah?” She says, a real question.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, “So let’s have a big party and tell everyone about it.”

“Let’s do that,” Dina says, and she folds back against Ellie.

\--

As the night goes on, Ellie returns to her post out on the fringes of the crowd. She talks with a few people--even Darrell, the gruff manager of the carpentry shop, stops to clap her on the shoulder and have a drink. 

The crowd has begun to thin, but Dina is still chatting with a group a little ways away. Ellie’s not in a rush. Robin and Mary have JJ, and she’d checked on Evie just an hour or so ago, breaking away from the party to make sure she was okay. She was due any time now, according to the doctor. June would be stretching into July soon, and Ellie was privately hoping the baby would hold out until then--only so they could share the same birth month.

It can be kind of silly, the things that kids make you excited about.

A woman sidled up to Ellie, close but not too close. Blond, middle aged. Pretty, with an air of authority about her. Ellie didn’t readily recognize her, but there were a lot of people in Jackson--more new people every day, in fact.

“Nice party,” The woman said, ice clinking in her glass, “Do you guys do this often?”

Ellie shrugs, but something is tingling at the back of her neck, “Not really--”

“You know, you really fucked things up for me. For the whole world, possibly,” She says, taking a drink from her glass.

“I’m--what?”

"We've been here watching you for months. Just walking around. You're too trusting, you know."

Ellie sets her drink down, starts to feel for her knife--but for the first time in months, it's been left behind.

"Who the fuck are you?" She demands.

“I just needed to see you, face to face, before we take the girl,” She goes on, “Had to see the animal that killed five of my best men, beat another half to death with a fucking drain cover, and stole the only thing that could possibly save humanity--you’ve got a hell of a resume, kid.”

“Redford…?” Ellie says, stricken--how the fuck was the leader of those psychos in New Teton just standing here, in the middle of Jackson?

“What the actual fuck--do you think I’m just gonna let you walk away from here--?”

“No, probably not,” Redford says, “I’m going to need a distraction.”

Ellie catches sight of the guy inching up behind her too late; there’s a pinch near her neck, the stick of something sharp.

“What the _fuck,”_ She springs away, prepares to call up an alarm--but then the world starts to blur at the edges, and her limbs start to feel heavy. She clamps a hand to the spot on her neck where the needle must have gone in, as if it will help--it won’t.

“Fuck... _fuck_ …” She murmurs as her legs give out, and she collapses.

“Hey--HEY!” Redford calls out, “We need help! Somebody help her!”

“No…”Ellie murmurs as people crowd around her, block out the sight of Redford and her fucking asshole friend altogether, “No--wait…”

But whatever they injected her with, it swallows her whole, like a warm ocean wave, like the tide in Santa Barbara, and Ellie goes under.


	15. Any Previous Injuries?

__BEFORE__

The house is quiet, save for the quiet clinking of Joel’s fork against his plate. Ellie uses her own fork to push a single limp noodle around and around. Elbow propped on the table, chin resting in her hand, slumped in her chair.

Joel glances up from his pasta.

“Elbows,” He says, points his fork at the offending appendage.

She gives an exasperated sigh, a highly theatrical roll of her eyes, and removes her elbow from the table. Like, holy shit, elbows on the table were the least of their worries, what was the big deal if she put her elbow on the table? The second he wasn’t looking, she was going to put _both_ elbows on the table. Fuckin’ double elbows, all over this fucking table.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way,” He says, “But you seem a little--y’know.”

“What, Joel?” She snaps, “What do I seem like?”

“I dunno--uh…” He searches hard, clearly trying to find the most tactful word he knows, “...let’s go with _agitated.”_

“I don’t even know what that word means, Joel.”

“It means...like, _upset._ And also...kinda mean,” He takes another bite of spaghetti, “Meaner than _usual_ , I guess.”

She stares back at him, at his dumb face, looking overly worried but trying to make a joke about it. His jokes weren’t even funny--especially not right now, when she didn’t feel like she could ever laugh again. 

She looks back down at the plate of spaghetti. She would normally have just gone to the dining hall for dinner, but Joel had tricked her into having dinner at home. _Tricked_ was probably the wrong word. He’d been asking her to have dinner for weeks, but she kept putting him off, until finally he promised the thing he knew she couldn’t resist: _spaghetti._

He was really good at making it. 

She sighs. Sits up a little in her chair. Leans over her plate.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks with a very forced casualness. He’s trying really hard to get her to talk, and it only makes her want to shut down more.

But, tonight, there really is something she can’t shake.

“Is it...is it normal…” She says, staring down at a smear of red tomato sauce on the plate, “Is it normal for someone to _pretend_ they like you, even if they don’t?”

She doesn’t look up at him. She can’t.

“Why?” He says immediately, “Did somebody do something? Was it _Jesse?”_

“ _No_ ,” She says with frustrated emphasis, “No, it wasn’t Jesse and it wasn’t--I just…”She clinks the fork against the plate, not even pretending to eat anymore, “I just...thought maybe someone, y’know... _liked_ me, but...then they didn’t. And I feel...like really fucking stupid.”

Joel gets quiet, but she still can’t look at him to see what he’s doing.

This was stupid, talking to Joel about this, especially when she still can’t even be direct about the details. How could she? The idea alone makes her feel like her stomach might come to a full boil in an instant. Like her bones are twisting up inside her frame. Like the world might end.

And she’s not entirely sure why. Would it be so bad, telling Joel she liked _Dina_ , not _Jesse?_ She lays awake sometimes, thinking about it, trying to run the scenario in her brain. Trying to predict his reaction. 

And it’s not so much that he might get mad. _Mad_ Joel she could deal with. But every time she ran the scenario, it was quiet, disappointed Joel that hurt her the most. 

She wasn’t afraid of his anger. But she was terrified of his disappointment.

“Y’know,” Joel says quietly, “Teenagers are just plain stupid, Ellie--”

She rolls her eyes, groans.

“I don’t mean _you,_ ” He says forcefully, “You, Ellie--you’re smart. That’s the problem. You’re smart, you’re funny, and when that knife is in your hand...goddamn, you’re terrifying. But teenagers, Ellie, other teenagers--they don’t know shit. So I don’t know what happened, but I know it wasn’t _your_ fault. I know you’re not _stupid_ , so you can stop feeling that way.”

Ellie glances up at him, just a little. He raises a dark eyebrow, a question of _did that help?_

“I just...I really wanted this person to like me,” She says in a hushed voice, trying not to become a teary idiot, “And I don’t know why they would make me _think_ that they like me, when they _don’t.”_

“So we’re talking...we’re talking _like_ like, right? As in...uh…” He wavers, awkward and unsure, “Well, _datin’?”_

Ellie shrugs, and the irony escapes her, the irony that she’s just as awkward as Joel.

“They’re just someone I like a lot. Makes me feel, y’know...really happy. Happy that we came here. And sometimes they act like maybe they feel the same way, but...I kinda...I mean…” She hesitates, screws up her courage, decides _fuck it_ , and spits the words out, “Well, I _took a chance_ last night and it...it didn’t turn out like I thought. They said that...y’know. We were _friends._ But I really thought...I really believed...it was _more than that…”_

She slumps further into the chair, abandons the fork.

“God, I’m the stupidest person in the world.”

“You’re not the stupidest person in the world, Ellie.”

“You don’t know that, Joel, there aren’t a whole lot of people left--statistically, it’s fucking possible.”

“But you’re not--”

“--I could be.”

“--but you’re _not.”_

She stares at him, embarrassed and still nursing the sting of rejection, the horror and pain that had exploded in her chest as Dina had gently pushed her away.

“I feel like it,” Ellie says, and she fails at it, at not being a teary idiot, “I really feel like it, Joel.”

“Baby girl…” He sighs, sets down his fork, leans across the table, “You listen to me, okay? Are you listening?”

She gives a slow nod, and the tears roll silently over her face.

“You can’t see it yet. You can’t see the future--but I see it, okay? We came here so we could have a lot of years ahead of us. And that means, someday, you’re gonna meet someone, and you’re gonna wanna start a family with them--”

“ _Joel--”_

“No, listen--I mean it. You’ll have a family someday, and let me tell ya--that’ll be the luckiest goddamn family in the world, ‘cause no one’s gonna look after ‘em the way you will.”

This isn’t helping. This isn’t easing the hurt in her, or helping to explain why Dina would seemingly change her mind like that. The idea of _a family_ is so distant and foreign to Ellie as to sound like pure science fiction. As real and probable as one of the stories from her comic books. 

“All I’m sayin’, Ellie…” He sighs, “All I’m sayin’ is...teenagers can’t see that stuff yet. Kids your age, they’re still real dumb. _Real dumb._ Give it time, Ellie. Keep being _you._ The rest will all sort itself out.”

She’s still not sure she feels better. Being herself didn’t help make Dina like her. What good was _being herself?_

"Weren’t you on patrol last night?”

She’s caught off guard by the question.

“Yeah,” She says, “Out near the chalet.”

“Huh. With Dina, right?”

“It was a group patrol.”

“With Dina?”

“She was...well, she was there.”

“And what does _she_ think about it?”

Ellie feels her heart begin to palpitate, like maybe it’s gonna give out.

She shrugs.

He takes a bite of spaghetti, chews thoughtfully.

“I like her,” He says, “I feel better when she’s out there with you.” 

"Yeah…" Ellie says, stabbing a pile of noodles with her fork as if this is all their fault, "Yeah, me too."

"Well, what I for sure know is that this boy--" He falters, back pedals, seems to correct himself, "--this _person._ If they make you cry again...I'm gonna hunt 'em down."

Ellie gives a light, reluctant laugh and he smiles, even though she thinks he really might only be half-joking. 

He corrected himself, she notices.

And she has to wonder.

Does he know?

"You're crazy, old man…" She gives another small laugh and picks up her fork.

"Yeah--and you better make sure these kids know it before they go makin' you cry again."

She rolls her eyes, takes a bite of spaghetti. It's fucking delicious, and she wonders where the hell Joel learned to _cook._

_\--_

_**DINA**_.

“So you guys are doing okay?” Lydia asks, drink clinking in her hand.

“We’re doing... _really_ great, actually,” Dina answers, even though she thinks the question is a little prying and personal.

The music is a slow hum, and the little patio area is strung with lights, and everything is really, really perfect. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol. She catches sight of Ellie across the way, looking impossibly good, smiling with a kind of easiness that comes too rarely these days.

No, it’s not the alcohol. Everything really is just perfect.

“She really does clean up nice,” Lydia says, following Dina’s gaze.

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?” Dina agrees.

“Y’know, it took Cat _forever_ to get over her,” Lydia goes on, “Even after we were married, it was still _Ellie this_ and _Ellie that_ \--and when she came back to town? Jesus.”

Dina pauses, feels a tension crawling up the back of her neck. She turns her gaze away from Ellie, onto Lydia. The other woman is taking a long, long drink from her glass.

“Weird,” Dina says, “I thought you and Cat were really doing well.”

“Yeah, me too,” Lydia says when she finally comes up for air, “Then _she_ came back from the dead.”

“Lydia...do you think maybe you’ve had enough to drink?” Dina offers gently.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lydia insists, “Haven’t even had that much.”

“Are you sure--why don’t I go get Cat for you--”

“I’m _sure--”_ Lydia insists, “--but I’d love it if you could tell Ellie to stay the fuck away from Cat’s studio--”

“Whoa,” Dina says with a surprised laugh, “I think you’re reading too much into that--and, again, drinking a little too much--”

“Did you know she brought Cat some kinda fancy _table?_ That she _built?”_

“Yeah. Because it’s her job. She works in the carpentry shop.”

“And they’ve made plans to do some kinda public _art therapy_ sessions or some bullshit…?”

“It was _my_ idea,” Dina says calmly.

“It doesn’t make you _mad_ , them spending time together?”

She smiles a little, shakes her head. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Why the hell _not?”_

Dina looks back at Ellie, talking now with someone Dina doesn’t recognize. Tall woman, blond hair pulled back away from her temples in a low ponytail. 

“I dunno,” She says, thinking, “I just don’t have any doubts about Ellie. Plus, have you met her? She’s a huge dork…” Dina gives a small laugh, turns to glance at Cat’s tipsy, upset wife, “I don’t think she’s swooping in on any wives, Lydia.”

“Well, I--”

“HELP--SOMEBODY GET HER SOME HELP!”

Dina looks back in time to see Ellie stumble and knock over her drink; her legs buckle and she drops, fast, toward the ground.

The world gets very quiet for Dina, just a muffled haze of sound as people begin yelling, shouting instructions, crowding up to try to help. Dina pushes through them, and she’s trying to say Ellie’s name, but she’s not sure if any sound is coming out or not.

She falls down next to Ellie.

“Ellie? Ellie, baby-- _Ellie--”_

But Ellie is totally unresponsive, deeply unconscious, pale and unmoving. 

“Shit... _shit…”_ Dina murmurs in a heavy panic, because she can’t stop thinking about her dad, back in New Mexico; how she and Talia were fine and safe and happy there until he just collapsed one day, fell down and didn’t get back up.

Probably a heart attack, Talia had tried to explain to her at the time. But she’d been so little, it didn’t mean much to her then. She could only think on the cruelty of it, the fact that even if you did everything right, even if you were smart and savvy and tough, even if the monsters didn’t get you--you could still just _die._ You could die and leave your people behind, defenseless and awash in a world that wanted to eat them alive.

“Ellie, wake up,” Dina begged her, “Ellie, you have to _wake up--_ fuck, someone get the doctor! _Fucking get the doctor!”_

But they’ve already gone to get the doctor, and the crowd lingers around them protectively, watchfully--a little mournfully. Like she’s already fucking dead, Dina thinks--she’s not fucking dead, something is just...something is _wrong._

“Please, Ellie,” Dina whispers, leans over her, takes her face in her hands; she’s still warm, and there’s still a sluggish pulse at her neck--she’s not dead, she’s not, “ _Don’t you fucking leave me.”_

There’s a scuffling sound and the doctor pushes through; Carrie is dressed up for the party like everyone else, but she wastes no time in dropping down next to Dina, searching out wounds and taking assessments.

“What happened?” She asks.

“I don’t know,” Dina says, “She was fine and then she just... _fell.”_

“Any previous injuries?”

“ _Yeah, a shit ton, Carrie--”_ Dina snaps.

“She had a concussion earlier in the year, right?” 

Dina is annoyed by how calm Carrie is, how easily she’s asking these questions when the implications are enormous and devastating.

“Yeah, but--”

Ellie’s hand twitches, just a small movement, and a rush of relief washes over Dina--but then--

“ _Shit,”_ Carrie breathes in alarm, “Shit-- _she’s seizing--”_

Ellie’s body goes rigid, begins to do just that-- _seize._ As if she’s in agony, as if something is eating her alive from the inside. But her face is still passive, and empty, and wholly not _awake._

Everything starts to become a blur, a rush of sound and noise and nothing, as several hands rush in to help, rush in to follow the orders now flowing out of Carrie in rapid succession.

“ _Darrell, go get a stretcher,”_ Carrie barks into the crowd, “Jim, Terry, I need your help getting her on the stretcher, we have to get her to the clinic--Darrell, put the stretcher right here--I can’t treat her here--fucking _quickly,_ goddammit!”

Tommy pushes through the crowd as they lift Ellie on the canvas stretcher; he grips Dina’s shoulders, as if he’s afraid she’s going to make a run for it, going to push her way in and obstruct the people who know what they’re doing.

But she can’t move at all.

\--

_**__BEFORE.__** _

Ellie drops down, scoops her fingers into the soft, loose snow and brings up a handful of it. She packs it between her hands.

The snow is coming down slow and thick, a gentle, ethereal kind of haze that doesn’t feel real. Makes the world feel extra quiet and still.

“Hey, Dina--” She calls, “--catch!”

The other girl, several paces ahead with her back to Ellie, turns reluctantly to see what Ellie wants--and is immediately stricken with the snowball.

Ellie starts to laugh, but Dina loses her footing in the building snow underfoot and goes down hard.

Ellie hurries forward, boots crunching with every step, and kneels down to help Dina.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Dina says, swatting her hands away; she massages the back of her head though, winces, “Just back off.”

Ellie drops her hands defeatedly, steps back with a confused, resigned expression.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie says, watching Dina brush the snow from her pants, “I didn’t mean--”

“To be a total _dick--_ yeah, but somehow it keeps happening--”

Ellie scoffs, eyes widening a little at the blatant and unfiltered attack.

“Damn. Okay,” Ellie says, throwing her hands up in surrender, “I’ll just fuck off, then. My bad.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Dina says, still angrily patting the snow from her clothes.

Ellie rolls her eyes, adjusts her backpack, turns away. Crunches off through the snow.

“Yeah,” Dina calls after her, “Just fucking leave me here, that’s great--”

“God _damn,_ Dina,” Ellie turns back to her, “What the fuck do you actually want from me? I’m too close, now I’m too far--where the fuck am I actually allowed to stand? Can you just tell me, so I can stop guessing and getting it wrong?”

“Don’t put this on _me_ ,” Dina says, “You’re the one fucking around with the snowballs and being an idiot--”

“I was just...trying to play with you…” Ellie says uncomfortably, feeling stupid, “I forgot that we don’t do that anymore. I’m sorry.”

Dina’s shoulders drop a little.

“I didn’t say...I never said we couldn’t…”

“You didn’t have to _say_ it,” Ellie tells her, “You haven’t talked to me, _really_ talked to me, in months. Unless you’re, like...yelling at me for something.”

Dina clearly wants to contradict this point, but seems to realize that she can’t. That Ellie is right.

“It hasn’t been the same since I started dating Cat,” Ellie supplies the theory carefully, like someone about to choose which wire to cut on a bomb.

They stare at each other through the falling snow, standing with that long stretch of white ground between them, which might as well have been a canyon.

“Well, maybe if you guys weren’t always--just hanging around, making out everywhere--”

“That’s...not even close to being accurate…” Ellie says, face screwed up in bewilderment.

Dina hates that, hates the way her nose scrunches up adorably when she makes that face, when she’s doing that dry, sarcastic thing of hers; Dina hates the way Ellie’s looking at her, like she’s a stranger. Dina hates the way it’s making her feel, like she’s falling, like she’s out of control of the world around her and everything is coming unglued.

“That’s what it feels like,” Dina says, “It feels like you guys are everywhere I go. It feels like I see you everywhere.”

“Dina...I haven’t seen you in…” Ellie shakes her head, thinking, “...fuck, I don’t know. Weeks. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, except for these patrols.”

“I know,” Dina confesses, because what’s the point in lying now, “And I’m not sorry.”

Ellie shrugs, angry, and turns away, “Okay, well, I guess that fucking settles it, doesn’t it.”

“I’m _not,”_ Dina repeats, taking a few steps after her, “I’m not sorry, because--I can’t even explain--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ellie says sharply, waving her off, “Why should _you_ have to explain--you’re _Dina_ , and Dina doesn’t have to explain shit to anyone, right? Dina gets to treat people however the fuck she wants.”

“That’s not...that’s not true--”

“It _is,”_ Ellie says, “You treat me like this _problem_ you don’t know how to get rid of--I can’t do anything right anymore, and it’s...it’s fucking _exhausting_ , Dina--”

“I miss you.”

Ellie stops at the admission, turning back to look at Dina, who's standing there in the falling snow, looking scared and small and like maybe she’s going to make a run for it at any second.

“What?”

“ _I miss you,_ dummy,” Dina says it again, “I miss you so much. I’m fucking _terrified_ of how much I miss you, every single day.”

“Dina…” Ellie sighs, pushes a hand through her hair, knocks away the snow clinging there, “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t. I tried, Dina. I did. Remember? Back at the Chalet--”

“I know,” Dina says, “I know.”

Silence stretches, pulls between them.

Ellie throws her arms out in a shrug that says _so what the fuck now?_

“I love Jesse,” Dina says quietly.

Ellie nods.

“I know,” She says, and there’s a heaviness there in the way she says it, “And I love Cat.”

More silence.

“But...I miss you,” Dina says, “I miss your stupid jokes. I miss your stupid face.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything, just looks back at Dina with a sad kind of resignation, an expression that says she doesn’t disbelieve what Dina’s saying, but that she’s not counting on Dina to do anything about it.

She believes Dina feels it, but does Dina really want it?

“Say something,” Dina begs her, “Please.”

“What do you want me to say, Dina? I told you all I need to tell you--two years ago. Two goddamn years ago.”

“Do you miss me?” Dina asks, breathless.

Ellie sighs, starts to turn away.

Dina crunches through the snow, pushes her.

“ _Do you miss me?”_

“Of course I fucking miss you, Dina!” Ellie drops her backpack as she regains her footing, “I’ve missed you since the day I met you! Is that what you want to hear? What is it in you that needs this? Needs to torture the shit out of me like this--”

Dina steps forward, finds Ellie’s lips with hers, and at first there’s a stiffness as Ellie reels with surprise, but it only takes an instant for this to be okay, for this to be the most _okay_ thing that’s ever happened. Ellie curls her fingers into the fabric of Dina’s jacket and pulls her closer, and there’s something in the gesture, something tender and profound--or maybe it’s not the gesture at all, maybe it’s all of it, maybe it’s just Ellie. Maybe _Ellie_ just makes her feel this way--wanted and seen and fulfilled.

Maybe it’s just Ellie.

Dina starts to pull away.

“Don’t,” Ellie says, and it’s a small, weak syllable, uncharacteristically pleading, “Please, not yet--”

And Dina kisses her again, because she’s opened a box here, a box she can’t close, a feeling that can’t go back, can’t be undone. 

They stand there in the gently falling snow, lost but tremendously _found,_ for a long time. Too long.

“We have to go back,” Dina says quietly against Ellie’s lips, “We have to.”

“I know,” Ellie says, “You’re freezing.”

Dina hadn’t even noticed, but it’s true--her whole body is trembling with cold.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Dina says, desperate, begging Ellie to tell her, to give her the answer to fix this, “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair.”

Ellie reaches up, brushes a melting snowflake from Dina’s cheek. She shrugs.

“Life ain’t fair,” She says, clearly repeating one of Joel’s mantras, “Let’s get back for dinner, huh?”

“Ellie…” Dina says, “Is this...okay? Are we okay?”

Ellie looks down into the snow around her feet, considering, and then she shrugs again.

“Yeah,” She says, “For now. We’re okay for now.”  
  



	16. Good Like Joel

_**DINA**_.

There’s a slow, steady beeping from one of the monitors, and it hasn’t wavered, hasn’t quit throughout the night so far; and yet, every one of the spaces between them, every silence between those beeps, feels like a fucking lifetime, like a chasm of terrifying  _ nothing. _

Which beep is going to be the last? When will they stop?

“What happened, Carrie?” She asks in a hoarse, even voice.

“I don’t know,” Carrie says, “I really don’t. It could be anything. We’re lucky to have the kind of equipment we’ve got, but--we don’t have nearly the kind of equipment we need--”

“Give me your best fucking guess,” Dina says sharply.

Carrie stares at her, holding the words on her tongue, clearly trying to decide whether or not Dina can really stomach the answer.

“Something neurological,” Carrie says, “An aneurysm. A blood clot. Fuck if I really know, Dina. You and I both know Ellie hasn’t been easy on her body.”

Dina looks away from Carrie, focuses on Ellie, drained of color, lifeless in the bed. It’s fucking bizarre, seeing her there like this, helpless. It’s an unsettling subversion of the natural order of things. Even during those times when Ellie is broken and bleeding and barely alive--she still seems so superhuman. Invincible in her pain. But this? This was different. 

“When is she gonna wake up?” Dina asks, still looking at Ellie, still waiting for her to open her eyes at any blessed fucking moment.

Carrie stalls in giving her answer again, but finally sighs and says, “I don’t know, Dina. She’s strong, we all know that. But you know the world we live in. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that...well. That she isn’t going to wake up at all.”

“She’ll wake up,” Dina says, reaching out to lay her hand over Ellie’s; internally, she begs for Ellie to react, to turn her hand up and tangle her fingers in Dina’s--but that doesn’t happen, “She will.”

“Dina, it’s--”

“ _ She’ll fucking wake up _ ,” Dina says, a vicious cut; she realizes the overreaction, hangs her hand, tightens her hand over Ellie’s, “She won’t leave me. She won’t. She promised.”

Carrie doesn’t contradict her, but backs away in some act of pity. Dina doesn’t need her fucking pity. Dina needs her to do her fucking job, and that’s it. Needs her to fix Ellie. But Dina doesn’t have the strength to say it, to argue over it anymore. All she can do is sit in the quiet and wait--

“DINA,” It’s Tommy, bursting in through the door, “Dina, she’s gone--Evie’s gone, room’s all a mess, something ain’t right--”

He moves through the small space toward Ellie’s bed and in the process knocks over a box in the floor. The contents spill out--several rattling bottles and a few sheets of innocuous-looking papers. Pamphlets and advertisements for businesses that haven’t existed in decades now.

“Shit, sorry--”

“What do you mean she’s gone--?” Dina asks, “She can’t just be  _ gone _ , Tommy--”

“She’s gone, Dina, whole place has been trashed--”

“Wait,” Dina says, eyes on the floor; there’s a swelling rage in her chest as she bends down, picks up one of the leaflets from the ground, “Fucking  _ wait--” _

She holds the pamphlet up, gets a better look at it.

“Carrie--what is all this?” She asks.

“I had to pull some of our cached antibiotics for Ellie,” Carrie says, “Wanted to cover all the bases, in case it was something bacterial. I’m pretty sure these came from an old vet’s office somewhere nearby.”

Dina folds the pamphlet in half, the better to show Tommy the little square picture in one corner.

“I fucking saw her tonight,” Dina says, “I  _ saw her here--” _

“What?” Tommy says, taking the leaflet from her, “Dina--”

“I saw her, she was standing there talking to Ellie,” Dina’s already out of the chair, heading for the door.

“Dina, wait--” Tommy says, “How can you be sure?”

“Fucking  _ look,  _ Tommy--” Dina grabs the pamphlet, points at the picture again; there’s a name printed under the picture, under the portrait of the smiling veterinarian in a white labcoat.

_ “Dr. Anita Redford.” _

_ \-- _

When Dina comes back to see Ellie again just an hour later, it’s with a full backpack and a pistol at her hip.

“Ellie,” Dina says quietly, touching her hand again, “Ellie, I...I have to go do this.”

Ellie shows no response, and Tommy lays a hand on Dina’s shoulder. His own backpack is full and ready to go, too. 

Dina knows it’s time sensitive, that there’s no telling what they’re doing to Evie even as they stand here--but she couldn’t leave without giving Ellie one last chance to wake up and come with them. 

But Ellie doesn’t stir, and the monitor just keeps steadily beeping.

“Dina, you don’t have to come,” Tommy says, “I can go. You stay here with Ellie. I can do this.”

“Going alone is a suicide mission, Tommy,” Dina says, adjusting her backpack, “Evie’s...she’s one of ours now. Her and the baby, both. Ellie would say the same thing. I have to go get her.”

“Well...in that case,” Tommy sighs, “I’m right behind you.”

Dina touches Ellie's face. There's a chance this is it. There's a chance that one of them has already slept in their bed, inside their home, for the last time. She wished she'd savored it, but she hadn't. She'd fallen asleep watching Ellie sketch in her notebook, there in the bed next to her--a night like any other. A hundred others. Special only in retrospect now, this terrible  _ now _ . Special only because maybe it was the last.

“I love you, Ellie,” She says quietly, leaning in, keeping the moment just between the two of them, “You'd better be awake when I get back. I mean it, Boston. Don't give up on me."

She touches her lips to Ellie's forehead, lets herself linger only for a second--any longer and everything in her is going to collapse.

She turns back to Tommy, surreptitiously scrubs away the tears.

"You ready?" Tommy asks, and there's a subtext he's not saying, a worrying note in his voice that's trying to tell her,  _ It's not too late to back down. _

"Yeah, I'm ready," Dina says, "I'm gonna find this Redford bitch and fuck her all the way up for this."

\--

_**ELLIE**_.

_ Joel's lying on a cold garage floor and burning up with fever and she has to find some antibiotics for him or he's gonna die he's gonna die and leave her alone out here leave her alone but she can do this she can it's not that she needs Joel to take care of her she just needs Joel to care about her-- _

_ There's an impact on her face and it's crushing she can hear the bones popping snapping collapsing and Abby just keeps hitting her keeps hitting her and honestly she fucking deserves it but Jesus is Dina okay fucking hell please just let Dina be okay-- _

_ Dina is screaming and crushing her hand but it's fine she keeps telling Dina just  _ **_look at me just look at me you're doing so fucking great you are a motherfucking badass_ ** _ and she's trying not to show how scared she is how she's more scared than she's ever been in her life because there's a line here between life and death, so thin and precarious that it's hard to tell which side is which and it's fucking torture to watch Dina walk it and not be able to walk it with her-- _

_ Abby's teeth are crunching down on her fingers like a vise and she can feel it all the way up her arm and she's relieved when she can finally pull free but jesus christ where are her fucking fingers  _ **_where are her fucking fingers-_ ** _ - _

_ She’s standing in the grass that tall grass outside of the farmhouse outside of her home outside of the place she’s been dreaming about since the moment she left it and it’s only a few steps away now it’s so close it’s so goddamned close she can make it she can really make it and she’s stepping up on the porch but she already knows because it’s too quiet she already knows and its going to sink her it really is but she has to see has to know and when she pushes the door open there’s just nothing there’s just silence there’s just bare bones and dust and an emptiness that reaches inside her and won’t let go she sits on the porch and cries even though she doesn’t deserve it doesn’t deserve a moment of feeling sorry for herself because she did this she did it-- _

_ She's holding the machete in both hands and raising all the way over her head because she just wants David to be dead she wants to know it she wants to feel the destruction and know he's fucking dead that he's never going to touch her he's never going to touch her and Joel is grabbing her, Joel is grabbing her and folding her in against him and she's safe she's safe  _ **_she's safe--_ **

Fuck. What the fuck is happening. She can't get a hold of her thoughts. They're swelling up like waves rolling in on the sand, pushing in and pulling her back out, out into a black abyss of all the things that keep her up at night, deeper and deeper into a well of blood and pain.

She's trying to wake up.

She's really trying.

_ She's standing in the snow and it's so cold and Dina is kissing her and god it feels good it feels like pure fucking magic but everything in her is collapsing falling dying because she knows it won't last knows this isn't it but god it's so good so perfect Dina just stay don't leave yet don't go-- _

_ A fucking runner is sinking its teeth into her arm it's fucking biting her holy fuck she's gonna die she's gonna fucking die she's gonna die she's fourteen and she's gonna be fucking dead-- _

Shit.  _ Shit.  _ She can't keep up. She's too tired. She just wants to sink into the black and let it swallow her up. Just be done. 

She's so tired.

_ There's a wet sound as the golf club traces an arc through the air and impacts against Joel's skull and it's all she can hear it's all she can hear and she can't move can't think because joel is gone fucking hell joel is gone and the world is fucking over it has to be it has to be all she can taste is blood and all she can feel is a howling emptiness deep down at her core and she's gonna fill that place that howling place with all of their pain all of their blood she's gonna fucking kill them all-- _

**_You better be awake when I get back. I mean it, Boston._ **

Dina. Dina? Where's Dina going? Fuck. 

_ Little Potato is pulling her hand and showing her the dinosaurs in his bin and she's gonna take him someday she's gonna show him the museum just like Joel showed her because she can do it. She can be good for him. She can be a good mom can't she she can be something good in someone else's life right she can be good-- _

She can be good like Joel.

Good like Joel.

Joel.

**_You better be awake when I get back. I mean, Boston._ **

_ She's watching Dina cross an old cellar and go up the stairs and she should stay here with Cat but she can already feel it this pull this need like she has no choice but to follow her and when she finds Dina she's leaning against the wall of this barn and god she's so pretty that it does something dumb to her brain makes it hard to think but it's more than that it's more-- _

_ She's coming back from California and her feet don't seem to work they just feel like cinderblocks tied to the end of her legs but she can feel Dina and JJ out there and they're pulling on her tugging at her drawing her forward drawing her home like magnets-- _

_ Evie is watching her as she lays down a fresh plank of wood on the front steps because the old one was warping and someone was going to trip and Evie is laughing in a way Ellie wasn’t sure Evie could laugh and it feels nice to see someone get better to know it’s possible to know that it does happen it really does people can come back they can shake their trauma and find the sun again if they really want and Evie gives a little gasp and says the baby is kicking asks if Ellie wants to feel and it’s just like with JJ just a soft little bump a tiny proof of life and Ellie laughs with a little amazement and Evie says she’s thinking of naming her Talia and will that be okay with Dina-- _

Ellie opens her eyes.

But there’s nothing to see. Just blackness pressing in against her face, against her fucking brain, it feels like. She sits up and feels her face, feels her arms, feels that she’s still there and she’s real and alive. Her eyes adjust to the darkness and she realizes she’s at home, in her room, but everything is quiet and empty. She puts her feet on the floor and something is itching on her arm. Itching where the bite used to be. She rubs the spot and keeps going, moving toward her bedroom door, out into the darkness of the hall. 

JJ’s room is empty, Not just of JJ, but of all JJ’s things. Like JJ was never there. Like no one was ever there. Just a bare room. Like the farmhouse. She keeps moving down the hall, toward the stairs, but her fucking arm is killing her, Jesus Christ, it won’t stop itching--

She pulls her arm up and finds that it’s covered in a long, scaly shelf of fungi, little plating oval mushrooms and spores creeping up her arm toward her elbow.

She panics, and she can hear her own small noises of horror, her heavy, shallow breaths; she pulls at the stuff, scrapes it off in a terrorized frenzy; it falls away, leaves bare skin behind again. She holds the shaking hand up for inspection and it looks fine, it does, it’s okay--there’s no fungi, because she’s immune, she’s not infected, can’t be infected--

The other arm begins to itch and now the plates of fungi are huge and swelling and hard as bone and she can’t claw them off, can’t get away from them; it’s spreading up to her shoulders and along the back of her neck, where she can’t even reach it. And then a blinding pain in the middle of her forehead, a screeching, rending, ripping pain that won’t let up and won’t let go and it’s going to crack her skull apart. She falls to her knees, clamps her head in her heads and begins screaming, screaming from the bottom of everything she is, screaming for some kind of mercy--

_ I mean it, Boston. _

Dina.

**_Dina_ ** _. _

Ellie opens her eyes.


	17. It's the Basement

_**ELLIE.** _

“Dina…” Ellie murmurs as the world swam, sways, swells up around her, disorienting and strange and unreal, “DINA--”

Hands, pressing in on her, pushing her back against the bed; she tries to shove them off, but her arms feel hollow, burned up from the inside out.

“Ellie--” Someone is saying her name, but everything is still a heavy blur of color and sound; she can still feel the rolling blackness trying to pull her back under even now, “Ellie, you’re safe--Jim, she’s awake, come help me--”

“ _Getoffme,”_ Ellie demands in a weak slur, trying to push past the shapes, trying to get up, because she knows somewhere deep down that Dina is gone, has left, and she doesn’t know why or where but she knows she has to find her; she pulls at a tangle of wires and somewhere a machine lets off one long, high-pitched squeal of alarm, a one-note flatline, “GET OFF.”

“ _Ellie.”_

And she can finally see that it’s Carrie, the doctor; it’s Carrie, pushing her back down into the bed. Jim, her assistant, is standing back, hands up, clearly not eager to try to make Ellie do anything she doesn't want to do.

She closes her eyes, hard, trying to keep herself from vomiting, because she doesn’t have time for that. She just knows she doesn’t have time for any of this.

“What the fuck, Carrie…” She says in a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Ellie? What happened?” Carrie says, and Ellie can feel her hands pressing in against her neck, checking vitals.

“I dunno…” Ellie says, and her hands won’t stop shaking; her skin is damp with a cold sweat, “I dunno, I remember...the party...Dina. I remember dancing with Dina…”

She reaches up, covers her already closed eyes with a hand because everything is too bright, because she has to push back, past the boiling black clouds that had washed over her, the twisting, drowning memories and clawing pains of the past--she has to remember what happened.

“There was a woman…” Ellie says slowly, “Fuck. There was a woman--”

She sits up, more steady this time but still shaking.

“They injected me with something-- _motherfuckers,”_ She chews on the word, because _holy shit_ these assholes are going to get everything that’s coming to them, they really are.

“What?”

“Yeah, stuck me with a fucking needle,” Ellie says, and she lifts a hand to touch the spot.

Carrie leans forward, examines the area.

“Oh, shit. _Shit._ Do you know what it was?”

“I didn’t have time to fucking ask, no,” Ellie mutters and rips the monitors all the way off, throws her legs over the side of the bed, “How long have I fucking been here? Where’s Dina? Evie? Did they attack us? Carrie--”

“Was it a sedative?” Carrie is murmuring to Jim, watching Ellie but clearly not really seeing her, lost in some thought, “Maybe she had an allergic reaction to their sedatives? No telling where they’re even getting the stuff, how old it is…”

“I don’t even care what it was,” Ellie tells her, “Carrie-- _where the fuck is Dina?”_

Carrie sighs.

“Ellie--you can’t. You don’t know what the effects of this are going to be in the long run, you could get halfway there and start seizing again, we don’t know--”

“CARRIE,” Ellie says, finally on her feet, swaying but still very much on her feet, “ _Where. Is. Dina.”_

_\--_

_**DINA.** _

Dina stands up in the back of the truck, looks through the binoculars, down into the little bowl of a valley with the village nestled in the bottom, but there’s almost nothing to see. 

“Something ain’t right,” Tommy says, holding out a hand for a turn with the binoculars, “There were guys up on these gates before. We were getting sniped way back there. There were people moving around in there. Now there’s fuckin’ nothing. I don’t like it, Dina.”

“Less people to fight is never a bad thing,” Dina says, “But where would they all go?”

“Well, I know that hospital has to be their base of operations. Ellie said she saw a lot of movement in there, lotta stuff going on.”

“I mean, that only makes sense,” Dina says, “Seeing as how that hospital is the creepiest goddamn building I’ve ever seen in my life--sure, of course that’s the one we have to go into…”

“That’s pretty much how it always shakes out, yeah…” Tommy sighs.

“If she was a veterinarian…” Dina says slowly, “Do you really think she even _could_ make a cure, Tommy? That she really might know how to study this immunity stuff, figure it out?”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away.

Finally, he shrugs, “I dunno. Maybe. But we’ve seen the shit they do. Like with these--pits in the ground, with the infected down in ‘em? I ain’t a scientist, but...that don’t seem very fuckin’ _scientific_ to me…” He gives a small shake of his head, “Maybe she knows what she’s doing, I dunno. But it seems more likely that she’s just lost her goddamn mind.”

\--

“Tommy…” Dina says into the dark, “Tommy--there’s nobody here.”

She sweeps the beam of the flashlight slowly across the lobby; the light slides over a curved, old-fashioned desk, central command once for a staff of small town doctors and nurses and clerks, but now just empty. 

Tommy tries a lightswitch, but nothing happens. Just an empty _click, click, click._

“Let’s keeping looking,” He says behind her, “Gotta be somebody here somewhere who can point us in the right direction.”

There’s a long hallway, doors on each side; Dina shines her light down the corridor, and the beam gets swallowed up in darkness before it reaches the end. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel like a particularly auspicious sign of things to come. There’s a skin-crawling sense that someone was just here, that they’ve just missed out on something--but what?

Dina reaches the first door in the hallway, reaches out and pushes it open slowly, gun drawn. It opens with an unsettling ease.

“Tommy…” She says, “What the fuck is going on here…?”

The floor is covered in something slick and black, and there’s a stench of old iron and something like moss, like mold. In the corner is what might be a body, but who the fuck could tell? It was a mangled shape that was only vaguely human in nature now; the legs were covered in gnarled, boney plates of fungi, and the head--the head was missing, with only shattered fragments of bone and tissue remaining, jutting up from the shoulders of the thing like macabre stalagmites.The wall behind it was doused in a spray of bone and blood, gleaming wetly in the beam of Dina's flashlight.

But the torso. The torso was bound in tight stretches of dingy white linen, the arms forcibly wrapped tightly to the chest.

"They put a clicker in a straight jacket?" Dina breathes in confusion and growing unease, "The fuck?"

"Still fresh," Tommy says, "Something just happened here. We need--"

A scream cuts him short.

Dina draws the shotgun slung across her back and leans around the edge of the door, looking back out into the hall. There's a man scrambling in their direction, with a clicker snapping, scraping, swiping right at his heels. 

He flashes past their door, wholly unaware of she and Tommy, and as the clicker gets within critical range she lowers the shotgun, steps out and fires. It's a deafening in the otherwise suffocating silence, a _boom_ that reverberates in the bones; the lower half of the clicker separates from the rest of its bottom in a shower of wet tissue and calcified shards. 

"Jesus--oh fuck--" The man, sporting a dirty lab coat, trips, falls into the floor in a heap, "Thank fucking god, oh shit, oh _shit--"_

Dina swings the shotgun around, levels it and the beam of her flashlight at him all at once; he holds both hands up in surrender, tries to wriggle away across the floor on his back, but the end of the shotgun doesn't leave him.

"Where's Redford?" Dina demands, "I know she's here--"

"She was!" The man stammers, "She was, but I don't know where she went--"

"Don't _fucking_ lie to me--" Dina jams the shotgun closer.

"I swear!" He wails, "I swear, she had the girl, and everything was fine, but then--then-something got out of the basement--"

"The fuck does that mean?" Tommy asks.

"I-I-It's over, everything is fucked, containments breached--"

"I don't give a _fuck_ about your _containments_ \--" Dina informs him, " _Where is she?"_

"L-listen," He quivers, "If she can get out, with the girl, there might still be hope, this might all have been for something--"

All Dina can think about is Ellie, rigid and seizing on the ground last night; all she can see is Evie, laughing as she lifts her new camera and snaps a picture of Ellie and Dina on the couch.

Dina turns away from him, walks past Tommy, back to where the wriggling head and shoulders of the clicker is still snapping and clawing at the floor. She grabs the thing by the back of the neck, drags the writhing mass of screaming rage and bones back to the man on the floor.

She pushes what's left of the clicker's face, that jumbled mess of plate and teeth, down onto him. He begins to scream, the pleading, soul-deep screams of pure terror and desperation. The arms are clawing at him, reaching blinding for whatever it can find, teeth snapping urgently and only missing his flushed, sweating cheek by a breath.

" _Fucking tell me,"_ Dina demands again through locked teeth, "Or I swear to god I will let this thing pull you apart."

" _The river,_ " He shrieks, "She kept a boat on the river, just in case this exact thing happened and that's all I know--that's all I fucking know, I swear to _god."_

“So she’s already out of the building?!” Tommy demands.

“YES,” Lab Coat cries, shrinks away from the snapping teeth of the clicker, “YES, please--”

Dina pulls the clicker away, heaves it away; it lands with a wet flop of a sound and scrambles against the floor to turn itself around and rush back at her. She lowers the shotgun and fires, reducing it to unrecognizable bits of fleshy fungi and fragmented skull.

“C’mon, Tommy,” She says, “We--”

A low, thunderous sound interrupts, reverberates off the walls of the hallway and sinks down inside them both; it makes every hair on the back of her neck stand up, makes the most primal part of her brain light up in terror.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Tommy whispers.

“Oh, fuck,” The man on the floor says in a hushed, agonized voice, “ _It’s the basement.”_

_\--_

_**ELLIE.** _

Ellie is still panting, pulling every breath she can, by the time she reaches the lobby of the hospital in New Teton. Every step she’s taken has been at a full sprint, every movement at break neck speed, just fighting to catch up, fighting to get here before something awful can happen. 

But maybe she’s too late.

She swings the flashlight around wildly--the desk, a dark hallway, a patterned floor--wait.

Blood there, across the tiles. Dark but wet. Scattered bits of a clicker, blasted in half by something--shotgun, probably. She keeps moving the flashlight, searching--

Dina’s backpack. There in the floor. Contents spilled out, abandoned. Flashlight flickering weakly.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

She moves down the hall, gun raised, flashlight searching, slicing through the darkness in that limited cone of illumination. All she can hear is her own breathing, quick and shallow and close, as she moves deeper into the depths of the building, listening for any sign of life, any sign of movement.

She still feels only half alive herself, still too cold and too hot all at once, but she can’t stop. Not when Dina is out here. She has to be here somewhere. She has to. 

With every corner rounded, she expects to find her, gutted and empty, sprawled in the floor--shot, stabbed, burned, broken. The possibilities just don’t stop coming. When you’ve seen enough fucked up shit, you gain an uncanny ability to imagine even more fucked up shit--so she can’t stop thinking it, seeing it, all the things that could have happened, all the ways she could find Dina’s body.

She reaches the back of the building, and has found nothing; she tries to remember wear the stairs were at--finds the door to the stairwell in the beam of her light in the next instant. She goes to the door, tries to look in through the little window--can’t see shit. She eases the door open--

And finds the black, cavernous mouth of a shotgun directly in her face.

“Ellie?” Dina says, “ _Ellie?”_

“Jesus Christ, Dina--”

Dina throws her arms around Ellie and whispers a stream of words near her ear--sounds of relief and wonder and fear.

Ellie holds onto her as if her life depends on it, pulls away only to assess her for injuries, to make sure she’s really okay.

Her lip is cut and bleeding, and she’s sporting a fresh array of scrapes and bruises, but otherwise she seems whole.

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks, “Are you hurt? Bit?”

“No,” She says, “No, I’m fine--are _you_ okay?”

"I’m fine. Never better,” Ellie says in a rush, “Where’s Tommy?”

“We got rushed by some infected in the lobby,” She says, “We got separated and I haven’t been able to find him.”

“And Evie?”

“The river,” Dina says, “Redford kept some kind of last ditch escape boat at the river. We were about to go after her when we had to make a run for it. Ellie…” She grabs Ellie’s arm, and there’s a look of intense, focused alarm in her eyes, “Ellie, there’s something here. Under the floor. Something--I don’t know. Big.”

“What’s that mean?” Ellie asks.

“I...I don’t know,” Dina says, “I found Redford’s office, and I found all these notes--and I think Tommy was right. I think she’s out of her mind.”

“Well, what did the notes say? We don’t have a lot of time, Dina--”

“I don’t know, the notes were--fucking _weird_ but--I think she’s been...trying to _grow_ infected? Down in the basement.”

“Grow...infected…? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It just talked about--routing moisture in, blocking the light out, trying to create... _ideal environments--_ something fucked up is underneath us, Ellie--”

A long, low sound erupts from somewhere below, and Ellie swears she can almost feel the floor move. Feel it rise ever so slightly. 

“What...the fuck…” She whispers, looking down at the tiled floor under her sneakers.

And then there’s a sound like thunder, like the crack of a pistol right next to her ear, except it’s coming from below, it’s coming from right underneath--

And it’s the sound of the floor splitting open under them.  
  



	18. Fuck 'Em

**_ELLIE._ **

“Dina!” Ellie says, grabs Dina’s arm, pulls her away from the massive split forming in the floor near Dina’s feet; but the ground continues to vibrate, continues to shake violently, and the split rips through the tile under them.

There’s a sound like a car crash, an impossible, deafening rush of crunching, creaking, cracking--and then the floor heaves up underneath them, as if shoved by a massive hand, and Dina grabs hold of Ellie’s arm--

“Ellie--!”

“The door--out the door--” Ellie pulls her toward the door of the stairwell, throws it open--

Only to find that the floor outside is already gone, already missing in huge chunks, revealing the contents of the basement in fractured glimpses.

Ellie’s never worried herself with ideas about  _ heaven  _ or  _ hell.  _ The world in its current state has never allowed a lot of room for ideological binaries like that. 

And, yet, Ellie was pretty sure she was looking straight into the gaping maw of hell itself.

Deep below, in the dark cavern of the basement, there’s a floor--and yet it’s not a floor at all. It’s a writhing carpet of fungi, a tangled mass of lurching, clawing infected, tangled in vines and spores and moss, locked together by the bursting plates of bone and tissue on their own bodies. It seems to breathe, all at once, this web of bodies, this thing that is simultaneously  _ many  _ and yet  _ one.  _

There’s a cacophony of screams, strangled screeching and agonized wails, and a stench like fetid fauna, like rotting wood, decaying flesh. This web of fungi and infection spreads up the walls, over every surface, drips from the ceiling of the basement like stalactites, stalactites with the writhing arms of infected still reaching desperately out for something, anything.

“What the  _ fuck  _ is that, Ellie?!” Dina yells over the din of the tangled screams below.

“Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ, I have no idea--we have to get out of here--this whole place is fucking falling down--”

Behind them, a fissure rockets up the side of the concrete staircase, and the whole thing begins to lean.

A few inches either way now and they’re tumbling straight into that pulsing, groaning mass of infected below. 

Ellie holds tight onto Dina, hard enough to bruise her arm, but she isn’t letting go now, not for anything. 

“ELLIE--”

It’s Tommy, sweet, blessed, wonderful Tommy, running down the hall, skidding to a stop just on the other side of the fractured floor outside the stairwell.

“You gotta jump--” Tommy calls, “C’mon, I’ve got you--”

Ellie grips Dina’s arm even harder for one more fraction of a second.

“Go!” She says as the floor trembles, “There are spores coming up from down there, you’ve gotta go  _ now.” _

“I’m not leaving you, you idiot!” Dina says.

“You have to! I’m fine, I’ll be right behind you, I fucking swear!”

“No!” Dina says, “I can’t--please don’t, Ellie--”

“Dina,” Ellie leans in, holds her by the shoulders; puts her forehead against Dina’s, “I’m right behind you, babe. I am. Please.”

“Y’all better fucking do  _ something _ \--” Tommy calls at them, leaned low over the fractured edge of the floor, waiting.

Dina pulls away all at once, as if one more moment of hesitation will drain her resolve. She jumps, catches the edge of the other side, feet scrambling against empty air and for a second Ellie’s heart holds still. But then Tommy grabs her, pulls her up and over and out of danger.

And then it’s just Ellie’s turn.

A chunk of concrete falls away under her foot unexpectedly and she jumps away, finds that she’s quickly running out of room. Fuck. All she has to do is jump. That’s all. 

She steels her nerves, makes the jump.

At the last moment, more concrete gives out under her and she loses her footing, can’t follow all the way through on the jump, isn’t going to make it; her hands reach but the edge is too far away, too far off.

_ fuck fuck fuck _

And then Tommy’s hand clamps around her wrist; he’s almost completely over the edge of the abyss, with Dina desperately anchoring his legs. 

“Jesus  _ shit,  _ you’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack, I swear to god, kid,” He groans and starts to pull them both back up. 

Dina grabs the back of his jacket, helps pull them both up to safety.

“We have to get out of here,” Ellie gets out through heavy, gulping breaths of air, “We gotta go--”

“Nah, let’s stay a fuckin’ while--of course we gotta go, good god--” Tommy grumbles and pulls her to her feet.

“This way,” Dina says, tugging Ellie’s hand, “C’mon!”

“Hold on!” Ellie says, because it hits her, what she needs to do, what she has to do--what has to be done.

She reaches into her backpack, grabs the neck of a smooth glass bottle; it sloshes with gasoline as she draws it out. She scrambles in her pocket for the lighter-- _ where the fuck is the lighter? _

“Ellie,” Tommy says warningly, “We don’t fucking have time--”

“ _ Hold on,”  _ She says, and she holds the lighter up to the tuft of rag sticking out of the bottle, strikes up a flame.

It goes up in an instant; she holds it over the screaming abyss below. Lets it go.

The screeching rises to a maddening crescendo.

\--

Once they’re outside again, the first breath of fresh air is as good and sweet as anything she can imagine. Clean and clear and full of sunlight.

Behind them, the smoke is rolling out of the building in great, billowing black clouds, oily and thick; there’s an unholy chorus of screams, and Ellie isn’t sure they’re all infected.

But it doesn’t matter.

She slams the doors of the lobby closed behind them, finds a long piece of warped rebar abandoned nearby and shoves it through the handles on the door. Nothing’s getting out.

“Ellie, there were  _ people  _ still in there--” Dina says.

“Fuck ‘em,” Ellie says shortly, “It’s the only way. The only way to stop them from coming after Evie and the baby. The only way to stop that…that fucking  _ thing _ down there.”

“Ellie--”

“Fuck ‘em, Dina. Let’s go get Evie.”

\--

“A motorcycle…?” Dina says with some mixture of surprise and dread and terror.

Ellie adjusts her backpack, tightens the straps, throws a leg over the seat of the beat up dirt bike.

“It’s Jim’s,” She explains shortly, “I had to catch up to you guys somehow.”

“Since when do you know how to  _ ride a motorcycle, _ ” Dina demands.

“Joel took me a couple of times,” Ellie says quickly, “I know enough--” She takes hold of the handlebars, gives it a hard, swift kick and it revs to life, “Are you coming or what?”

Dina only hesitates for a second before she gets on behind Ellie.

"I'll take the truck," Tommy shouts over the engine, "Go east toward the river and see what you can find!"

Ellie nods, turns the handlebars east.


	19. Oh, Little Love

**_ELLIE._ **

You always wanna give a moment a name.

Wanna categorize things.

This moment was  _ good. _

This one was  _ bad. _

Sometimes that works. Sometimes that makes sense.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes a moment is too full, too big, too tangled and unruly, to withstand a name. To let itself carry a label. 

Ellie sinks into the mud, can hear only her own shaking breath. The tears cut a harsh path through the blood and soil on her face. The world is slow and steady and yet altogether too fast. She is anchored firmly to the ground and yet she is freefalling through some empty space inside herself.

The loss is too deep and the gain is too much.

\--

**_ELLIE._ **

It doesn’t take long to find the boat ramp cutting into the current of the river--but there’s no boat. 

Ellie brings the bike to a stop and surges toward the water; they have to be here-- _ they have to be _ . 

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, looking out at the empty stretch of river, “Fuck--”

“We’ll find them, Ellie--” Dina says, catching up to her through the thick undergrowth on the bank.

“If we didn’t catch them  _ here _ then they could be  _ anywhere-- _ ” Ellie says, “That fucking psycho is going to get all three of them killed--Dina, we have to find them--”

“Ellie-- _ look.” _

Ellie lifts her gaze, follows Dina’s gesture down along the river, where the water has overtaken an old stretch of highway. There's a staggered line of rusted cars jutting out into the current--and there, trapped against a decrepit, half-submerged minivan--

"The boat! Shit, Ellie--hurry!"

They both sprint down the bank of the river, racing over tangled weeds and and damp foliage, Ellie in the lead. 

She can see the raft more clearly now, a well worn and patched yellow thing, and she can see Evie, trying to climb onto the roof of the minivan--but a hand reaches out, tries to drag her back in. Evie kicks hard, but it's clear she's exhausted and at her limit--

"Evie!" Ellie calls out to her, " _ Evie, hold on!" _

Ellie scrambles to a stop at the bank, trying to figure out how to get to her. Evie's fighting against Redford but losing and Ellie has to reach her--

Ellie makes a wild jump onto the trunk of a submerged sedan; it shivers under the impact, threatens to come loose and wash away with the current, but it holds firm. Ellie climbs over the roof, onto the hood. The water rushes up and over, sinks into her shoes.

"Ellie!" Dina falls from the bank, "Be fucking careful!"

But she's only two cars away now, she can make it.

She jumps onto the windshield of an SUV and the glass shatters; her leg sinks through up to the knee and she’s pretty sure she feels the skin being sliced.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” She breathes through clenched teeth and pulls at the leg, frees it, keeps going.

“Evie!” She calls as she climbs onto the roof of the SUV, but when she gets her footing, she sees that Evie is standing, free and clear, on top of the minivan--with her hands raised and trembling.

Down in the raft, Redford is training a pistol on her. 

Evie looks so small, more vulnerable than ever with her swollen belly and drenched, spattered clothes. But Redford is sporting a swollen lip and Ellie knows that Evie has put up a hell of a fight.

“Evie…” Ellie says slowly; the raft is swaying in the violent current, nearly ready to capsize, and there’s no way Redford can keep a steady aim, “Evie, just come toward me--slow--”

One of Evie’s trainers lifts from the slick metal roof, edges slowly back toward Ellie on the next car over.

“Don’t  _ fucking  _ move!” Redford screams, hair damp and disheveled, “You don’t understand, you  _ don’t--” _

Evie takes another step toward Ellie.

**_POW._ **

A shot rings out, ricochets off the frame of the minivan, but it startles Evie and in that single, frozen second, Ellie watches as Evie loses her footing.

“EVIE--” Ellie makes a wild grab for her hand but Evie topples over the edge and into the water, into the wild current.

The water surges and the raft with Redford on it is upended.

Ellie goes in, without thinking, without wondering how in the fuck she was going to get either of them out. 

The water rushes over her and for a moment everything is silent; but the current pummels her on every side and she fights to find the surface, to find a breath.

“EVIE--” She calls out when she finds the air, “ _ EVIE.” _

She can see the girl ahead of her, sinking and rising in the current, treading for everything she’s worth.

“Ellie!”

“Hold on!  _ Hold on!” _

She fights against the push of the water and finally,  _ finally _ , she puts her hands on Evie, grabs a fistful of her shirt, starts pulling them toward the bank.

In another moment, Ellie’s feet find purchase, find the muddy bottom of the river and she pulls Evie along until Evie finds it, too. They stagger out of the current, onto the shallow bank, sink into the mud.

“Ellie!” Dina, running along the bank, trying to catch up, pointing, “WATCH--”

Ellie turns in time to find Redford staggering out of the current behind them. The old woman raises the gun, groggy and slow but with a wild desperation in her face.

Ellie throws herself at the woman and they both tumble into the shallow water of the bank.

“Christ,” The woman croaks in a water-logged voice, “It’s really  _ you-- _ oh, Jesus--you’re  _ immune--”  _ She starts to laugh even as she’s still fighting Ellie, fighting to keep the gun, “I put spores directly into your  _ fucking  _ blood stream and here you fucking are--fucking  _ glorious--” _

“You’re out of your goddamn mind--it’s fucking over, you lunatic, we burned everything to the ground!”

“It’s not over, not as long as there’s  _ you,  _ and this baby-- _ two  _ of you, oh god--we can really do this, we can really end all of this--”

There’s a moment of concentrated effort, a wrestling match for the gun, and Ellie is afraid to take her hands off, afraid of what will happen if she lets go--

It goes off.

A deafening silence follows.

There’s only the sound of the water behind them, rushing against the bank, lapping at the mud.

“Ellie?”

Ellie stands, frozen, as she watches the red begin to bloom across Evie’s chest, slow but steady, steady, steady.

oh.

The sound slowly drains away from everything, replaced by a crushing silence. She sees Dina running across the bank, running toward Evie, but she can’t hear any of it. Can’t hear anything.

The gun lays in the mud, and Redford is on her hands and knees, watching as Evie drops, heavy, to the mud.

Dina is screaming something at her. It looks like  _ help me _ but she’s deaf, she’s dumb, she can’t move. The shallow water around her feet begins to fill with blood.

Ellie leans down, picks up the gun. 

“She’s in  _ labor,”  _ Redford is screaming at her, but she sounds impossibly distant, “You have to save that  _ baby-- _ she’s all that matters, the only thing, she’s  _ everything--you have to test her, you have to find out for sure--" _

Ellie raises the gun.

Fires into Redford, a single shot, through the head.

She throws the gun back to the mud.

_ “Ellie,”  _ Dina is saying over and over, “ _ The baby-- _ I need your help--”

Ellie drops down next to Evie; there’s too much blood, too much. It’s everywhere, in everything. Evie is already pale, her face wrenched in terror, her breath shallow and frightened and Ellie doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to make this better.

“I can...I can stop the blood…” Ellie says in a daze, and she starts pulling off her flannel overshirt, breaks a few of the buttons in the rush, “I--I can--”

“ _ Just save her--”  _ Evie says, and she clamps her hand over Ellie’s, “ _ Save her, Ellie, please--” _

Evie squeezes her eyes closed in agony and Dina reaches forward, grabs the flannel out of Ellie’s hands.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” Ellie says, thick with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,  _ I’m sorry--” _

“Just take care of her, Ellie,” Evie says in a rattling whisper.

“ _ Always,”  _ Ellie whispers, “Always.”

And then Dina is pushing a bundle into her arms, not ungently, but with urgency;  _ take her _ , Dina says, and Ellie does, Ellie takes the baby swaddled in her blood-drenched flannel shirt and Dina leans over Evie, trying to help, trying to do anything.

Ellie sinks into the mud, can hear only her own shaking breath. The tears cut a harsh path through the blood and soil on her face. The world is slow and steady and yet altogether too fast. She is anchored firmly to the ground and yet she is freefalling through some empty space inside herself.

This moment is bad. 

But this moment is good.

Because she looks down into her blood-stained flannel shirt, cradled there in her arms.

Looks down into little Talia’s face.

\--

END.

  
  



	20. Epilogue

The cabin is a quiet, dim collection of warm, woody earth tones and threadbare, well-loved furniture. A fire burns inside a stone hearth. 

Quilt draped over a chair. 

Woven rug on the floor. 

Coffee, cold and forgotten, on the table in front of the couch.

The creak of the front door. An amorphous figure, dusted in snow, lumbers through, into the dense warmth within the cabin walls. She shakes the cold off right there in the doorway. The snow melts and pools on the floorboards around her dark boots.

She pulls back a hood, then a scarf. Nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. Hair shorn short and swept back, away from her temples. Might have been blonde once, if you were guessing, but now it's the color of metal and undriven snow. Doesn't match the remaining vestiges of youth in her face--but those, too, are beginning to wear a little thin. 

She drops heavy into a seat at a table near the kitchen window, where the last rays of sunlight fall like shafts of burnt gold on the scattered sheets of paper there. Graphs and charts and readings. Images of skeletons and infections, gaping mouths and oozing wounds and wild, wild eyes. 

A man, at the other side of the table, stares at her with a quiet, grim tension. In his fist, a tape recorder. His foot taps out a staccato story of deep thought and anxiety, but otherwise, he is still as death. 

The silence stretches between them, waiting to be filled.

"Well?" She says at last, and her voice is hoarse from disuse.

"I looked over what you gave me," He says, eyes shifting down toward the table top, "Then I looked it over again. And again."

"And?"

"And--I don't know what you're asking of me, here--"

"Can it be done?"

He twitches, rubs his neck, frazzled by some combination of nerves and sleep deprivation. 

"In my opinion?" He hesitates, lets the words hang between them for a long moment, " _ Yes.  _ But--"

"Can  _ you  _ do it?"

"I don't--I mean, hypothetically, sure, with a big enough team and a lab and the right equipment and--"

"Then you start tomorrow," She says in that concrete way of hers, that way that invites no argument or contestation, "Make a list of what you need. No holds barred. I'll get whatever you need."

"But--we need more than equipment," He barks, shaking his head, "We need--someone who's  _ immune _ ," He gives a dry, broken laugh, "That person doesn't  _ exist.  _ All the authority and resources and people in the world can't get you a person that doesn't  _ exist. _ Who isn't  _ real.  _ It's a fantasy, it won't happen--"

"She's real," She says absently, eyes raking over the mass of papers, but maybe not seeing them at all, "She's real, and I can get her."

He stares across the table at her, moving only to blink slowly in shock.

"You know...someone who's immune?"

She reaches into the chaos of the research papers and pulls loose an x-ray sheet, lays it there on top. She taps the name at the top of the sheet, all square, official letters in a neat row:

_ Williams, E. _

He gapes across the table at her.

"She's still alive?"

She shrugs.

"How are you possibly going to find her?"

"I'll do what Fireflies do best…" She stands from the table, lifts the x-ray and carries it to the kitchen window, holds it up to the fading evening sun, "... _ look for the light. _ "

_ \--- _

_**ELLIE**. _

Dina is beautiful when she sleeps.

Don’t get her wrong, Ellie thinks Dina is beautiful all the time. When she laughs, when she's making dinner, when she's reading. Even when she’s annoyed. Maybe especially when she’s annoyed. 

Does she say it enough? She assumes Dina knows that she’s thinking it. After all, if she said it every time it hit her brain, she’d never have time to say anything else. 

But it’s a strange thing, making a life with someone. 

She thought she loved Dina, back when they were dumb teenagers; she thought she loved Dina that first night they danced, the night she whispered,  _ “They should be terrified of you.” _

And yet, whatever she thought she felt then, it’s a thin, pitiable fraction of what she feels now.

There was always a part of her that was afraid she couldn’t do this. Couldn’t sustain this. That she wasn’t a person who could feel big things. Who could be anything but alone, in the long run.

For a while, she believed, entirely, that she was never going to be able to let go of her ghosts. That in the end, the ghosts would be as much as she could ever have.

But this morning, this quiet, still morning, is proof that she was wrong.

She rolls over, away from the sunlight, folds herself in against Dina’s back. Dina stirs, shifts, grabs Ellie’s hand and pulls it over her middle--pulls Ellie in closer.

“Why are you awake already,” Dina mumbles sleepily.

“‘M’not…” Ellie answers, “ _ They  _ are though.”

Dina groans.

“They still think we don’t know, don’t they?” Dina sighs.

“Yeah.”

“They’re not good at keeping secrets.”

“Really terrible at it, honestly."

"They've been working really hard on it."

"I'd be prouder of them if they weren't, y'know... _ lying  _ about it because they think we'll take it away."

They lie there, still and comfortable, neither one ready to move. That is, until there’s a  _ crash  _ from the garage. 

“Please go help them before they kill themselves,” Dina pleads, “I’m right behind you.”

Ellie sighs, pushes back the blankets.

\--

**_TALIA._ **

“Shit!” Talia whispers in a rush, “ _ Shit, shit, shit--” _

She bursts into the garage, slams the door behind her. 

“What?” JJ asks, “What is it?” He freezes where he is, gripping the handlebars of the motorcycle.

“ _ Mom’s coming,”  _ Talia hisses.

“ _ Shit,”  _ JJ breathes, “ _ Which one?” _

“I don’t know!” Talia says, “I heard the bedroom door. If it’s Dina she’s for sure gonna lose her shit--”

“And if it’s Ellie, she’s probably gonna lose her shit, too.”

“What the fuck do we do?” Talia asks.

"Don’t say  _ fuck--” _

_ “ _ You say  _ fuck  _ all the time--”

“Yeah, but I’m  _ older--” _

“I’m  _ fourteen,  _ I can say whatever the fuck I want--”

“ _ Fine, _ whatever, just--stall her, so I can get this out--”

“So you can get what out?” Ellie asks as she comes around the open garage door, where the motorcycle is poised to be wheeled into the driveway.

Talia and JJ freeze.

“You guys suck at breaking rules,” Ellie tells them with a sigh, “It’s like you’re not even trying.”

“It was JJ’s idea,” Talia says instantly.

“Talia helped fix it!” JJ says defensively, “It’s her fault, too!”

“Neither of you even  _ thought _ to ask if you could just ride the thing?” Ellie says.

JJ and Talia exchange a look.

“Uh...no,”JJ confesses.

“God...they must think we’re super boring, won't even let them ride a two-wheeled  _ death trap, _ ” Dina shakes her head as she meets Ellie there at the garage door, “Are we boring parents, do you think, Ellie?”

Ellie shrugs, “Probably.”

Dina swats her shoulder.

"You're supposed to say  _ no _ ," Dina whispers at her.

Ellie, arms folded over her chest, just shrugs, "You called it a  _ death trap, _ I'm just trying to follow your lead here…"

"Don't blame  _ me--" _

"I'm not blaming you, there's nothing wrong with being the boring mom--"

"I'm sorry…" Dina gives a dry, sardonic laugh, "Did you just call me the  _ boring  _ mom?"

"Er-- _ safe  _ mom--" Ellie supplies quickly.

"How do you know  _ you're  _ not the boring mom?"

Ellie tilts her head, narrows her eyes, as if to say,  _ really? _

"I'm definitely not the boring mom," Ellie says, "I let Talia drive the pick up last week--"

"Yeah? I let them jump out of the tall tree at the lake--"

"Well,  _ I  _ showed Talia how to fix the exhaust on the motorcycle--"

Dina fixes her with a withering glare.

Talia starts to laugh, "You're in  _ trouble _ , oooooh…."

"I mean, I didn't help  _ that _ much," Ellie says. "Just--only a little bit--"

Talia continues to laugh, "You just  _ told  _ her, just came right out and told on yourself…ah. That's gold."

"You're not  _ helping," _ Ellie hisses at Talia, "You  _ owe  _ me."

"Can we ride the motorcycle or not?" JJ interjects forcefully.

Ellie looks at Dina, putting on her best  _ puppy eyes.  _

"Can we?" She asks.

Dina sighs, rolls her eyes.

"I guess--"

The rest of them give assorted sounds of celebration and victory.

JJ starts to jump on the bike.

"Hey, I'm the one who  _ fixed  _ it--" Talia says.

" _ I  _ found all the parts--" JJ counters.

Ellie takes the handlebars, "Can we just at least get it in the driveway, good god…"

She pushes, and the bike rolls forward, crunches against the pavement.

Talia bounds out, close to her side.

But, then...someone steps off the street, into the end of the driveway. Someone Talia doesn't recognize. A tall woman, maybe about her moms' age, Talia thinks, with short, light hair and a serious, kinda sad look about her. 

Ellie drops the bike. It falls sideways with a clatter.

"What the  _ hell,  _ I worked hard on that--" Talia balks.

But Ellie puts a hand on Talia, pushes her protectively behind her back, and Talia has seen this enough to know that look on her mom's face, that stiff, focused stare. Something is wrong.

"Abby…" Ellie says, and Talia is surprised to hear a wavering note of fear there--Ellie is  _ never  _ scared.

This  _ Abby  _ woman holds her hands up, palms out.

"I'm just here to talk."   
  



End file.
